Obsessed
by Dillyn Breeze
Summary: Ben and Abigail are reunited and happy. With life back to normal, the couple is focusing on their future. But one late night phone call changes everything. A decision must be made. Love will be tested by a man's obsession, a man they thought was long gone
1. Chapter 1

_This thing all things devour  
__Birds, beasts, trees, flowers  
__Gnaws at iron, bites at steal  
__Has no shape but its presence real  
__Slays kings, ruins towns  
__Seeks us all, but makes no sound_

Time.

The answer is time.

A sinister smile crept across his lips as the solution worked its way into his mind at last. At last. Too much thought had already been wasted on those six lines, six lines plaguing him like an incurable disease. He never liked puzzles or riddles. Ever since he was a young boy, they were an obstacle for him; his mind so gifted, so intelligent, yet always stumped when it came to riddles.

...

"_What's black and white and read all over?" taunted a young red-haired girl, covered in freckles. A jealous classmate. Even at eight years old, he had an obvious edge over his peers. He thought just a little deeper, learned just a little faster, competed just a little harder. But he hated puzzles. _

"_Come on, it's an easy one. Think about it!" She egged him on. _

_He felt his face turn red. They were all staring at him. _

"_You're the smartest in the class, why can't you figure it out?" Another boy teased, laughing out loud. _

"_Black and white..." the girl said slowly, purposely trying to make him feel like an idiot. "And read…what is read?"_

_He stared at her blankly, thinking hard, but coming up with nothing. A bloody skunk? No, that's ridiculous. That can't be it. Black and white…and red…a painted zebra? An Oreo cookie in ketchup? _

"_I…I don't know…" he admitted softly, looking down in embarrassment as the kids around him laughed. _

"_It's a newspaper! Duh!" She said. "Get it? Black and white…and read? R-E-A-D? Not the color red."_

"_Oh," he said. Simple. When you knew the answer, it was so simple. Why couldn't he just figure that out? _

"_Guess you are kinda stupid," another boy said. The boy that still couldn't add double digit numbers by third grade. _

_He felt tears welling up in his eyes, and before they could see him cry, he turned and ran as fast as he could. The tears ran down his cheeks as he tore through the playground, through the parking lot and down the street. He took a shortcut home, and immediately retreated to his refuge, his tree house. He designed it himself, every little detail. Uncle Mike helped him build it, but it was his mind that created it. His mind wasn't stupid. He wasn't an idiot. He was a genius. A genius that had a mental block for puzzles and riddles. And that gnawed at him._

_..._

A feeling of accomplishment washed over him as he silently repeated the puzzle in his mind, complete with the answer. It was ironic that his path would eventually cross with probably the greatest puzzle solver in the world. They met under odd circumstances, recognizing instantly the determination in one another's eyes. And so was born a nearly indestructible force, both men eager to achieve the same goal. Intellect and shrewdness fused with logic and practicality. The combination was perilous, even deadly.

And too good to be true.

Time.

It would soon be time.

His time.

Their time.

Like old times. With a twist. Or two.

He smiled to himself as his mind considered the four-letter word that took so long to lodge itself in his brain. Time. What is time, anyhow? Is it how we measure our days? Our experiences? Our lives? We're so dependent on time, _everything_ is measured in time. In a sense, time controls us. There are endless expressions about time. Time flies. Time is on our side. Time is money. Time heals all wounds. He often wondered about that one…

Time is precious. It can linger on indefinitely, or it can be snatched away in an instant. It can be gentle, and it can be relentless. Eventually, time takes its toll. Time _will_ have its way. But then again, there are those special instances in life where time works in your favor. Those brief and fleeting moments where time doesn't dictate to you, but rather, you take control. You're in command. This is your time.

That time had come.

Too many days, hours, seconds ticked away while he awaited his time to come. For too long, time hadn't been on his side. But now that it was, everything in the past seemed to be worth it. It would be worth the endless days of boredom, cooped up in an eight by ten prison cell, just waiting…waiting as others had their time. It would be worth the wasted time. It would be worth it to see another's time come…

To an end.


	2. Chapter 2

Rough, calloused fingers tapped a steady beat against the cool windowsill, precisely in sync with the soft ticking of the second hand on his watch. The room was dark, and cold. The same had often been said of his own eyes. He didn't mind it. When you hear enough insults, enough criticisms, it's not long before you begin to embrace them as your own. Concentrating on the sound of the ticking watch, he stared blankly at the city twenty stories below. The windy city. Chi-town. The city of big shoulders. The second city. The big onion. For some reason, he had begun mentally listing every nickname he'd ever heard for this overly congested nightmare of a city. The city that works together. He snickered. At least that would be true soon enough.

As he peered out he couldn't help but notice the commotion in the streets. Hundreds of cars, thousands of people, pushing and shoving past each other, all trying to reach their destinations. Did any of them matter? Everything was so small, so…insignificant. And yet, up here in this mediocre, yet surprisingly clean, hotel room, he towered over all of it. He was a giant. He was in control. And this time, he would have the upper hand.

The thought made him laugh wickedly out loud.

"Soon…" he muttered.

The shrill ringing of the phone beside the bed startled him from his thoughts and he turned and looked at it. It rang another three times before he decided to get it up and answer it, closing the curtains as he left the window.

"Yes," he answered in a quiet tone.

"It's done."

The man smiled, stroking his chin thoughtfully as he heard the two words that made his entire night complete. "Excellent. And you weren't seen?"

"No."

"You learn quickly, son," he said.

"Sir, I'm not absolutely sure I want to be involved—"

"Don't be ridiculous!" The older man yelled, cutting the younger off. "You'll get just as much satisfaction from this as I will. Think of it…"

There was a long moment of silence before either spoke again.

"What do I have to do now?" The younger man asked, his voice shaking slightly.

"You stay put. Until you hear from me. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"Good." A knock at the hotel room door caught his attention and the clever grin appeared once again on his face. "I have to go." He hung up the phone and took a few quick steps toward the door. He took a quick glance out the peephole before unlocking the deadbolt and slowly opening the door.

A tall, slender, sophisticated brunette stood in the doorway, adorned almost entirely in black and wearing dark sunglasses, despite the fact that she was inside and it was dark outside.

"Hallway a little bright for you?" He asked, stepping to the side to allow her to walk in.

The woman did not appear amused. "I'm not interested in jokes," she stated bluntly. "You told me to come here, and I did. Now what is it that you want?"

"Right down to business, huh? I like that in a woman."

"Well then, let's get to it." She crossed her arms over her chest, waiting for him to make his point.

"I have a proposition," he explained. "It can be quite profitable for all of us."

"_All_ of us?" she enquired.

"Yes," he said. "But until I know you're with me, I'm not about to tell you who that includes."

She sighed heavily, taking a seat in one of the chairs at the table. "What makes you think I'd be interested in a proposition from you?"

He snickered to himself, walking slowly around her and taking the other chair at the table, staring intently at her face. "Does the name, _Ben Gates_, mean anything to you?"

The woman took a long, deep breath, and gradually raised a hand to remove her sunglasses. As her eyes met his, the intense look of disdain in them said it all.

The man smiled. He had her too.


	3. Chapter 3

"It's perfect," Benjamin Gates acknowledged, admiring the 24-carat gold band the jeweler delicately held between his index finger and thumb, allowing Ben to carefully inspect his purchase. The white gloves that the jeweler used to handle the ring seemed to accentuate the sparkling diamonds that laced the band, leading around to three larger diamonds, the one in the center being the largest at 3.5-carat. "And this is one-of-a-kind, right?" Ben asked.

"Yes, sir," the jeweler replied. "Designed to your exact specifications. There's not another in the world like it."

Ben grinned, finally taking his eyes off the ring and looking up at the jeweler. "Well then, I guess that's appropriate. The same is true for the woman who will wear it," he said. "At least, I hope she'll wear it."

The jeweler arched an eyebrow, looking incredulously at Ben. "Mr. Gates, I really don't think you have anything to worry about. I can't imagine a woman in this world who wouldn't be ecstatic to receive a ring such as this. You must really love this woman."

"More than life," Ben replied, not missing a beat. He zoned out for just a minute, imagining Abigail's reaction as he slipped it on her finger. Her 'yes' would be worth _everything_ they had gone through to get to this point.

"Here you are, Mr. Gates," the jeweler said, handing Ben a small bag containing the ring, as well as a lot of paperwork that Ben assumed was primarily insurance stipulations. "Ok, and…with the ring, the insurance, minus the deposit you put down…the balance is 127,000 dollars even."

Without even flinching, Ben passed his Visa to the jeweler, who took care of the final transaction. Behind him, Ben heard a loud gasp right after the jeweler gave him the bottom line figure, and Ben turned slightly to see who was behind him.

A very young couple, probably in their early 20s, was looking at engagement rings. The woman was now gaping at Ben, her eyes wide and her mouth hanging open.

"Did you hear that, Brian?" She whispered loudly, tugging on his arm.

"Don't get any ideas," Brian replied, glancing over at Ben with an aggravated look.

Ben chuckled to himself, taking back his Visa, and after a thousand thank-you's from the jeweler, he turned to leave. _Poor guy_, Ben thought…_bet he thinks he picked the wrong day to go ring shopping. _

Ben had just pulled out of the jeweler's parking lot, ready to head home, when his cell phone started ringing. He reached over to the passenger's seat and started feeling around for the phone, which was ringing somewhere beneath the collection of random items that had accumulated there. After about six rings and a blaring horn as he accidentally ran a stop sign, he grabbed the phone and looked at the screen. He smiled, recognizing the number immediately.

"Hello?" Ben said, balancing the phone next to his ear with his shoulder.

"Ben? Are you driving?" demanded the woman at the other end of the line.

"Yes, dear," he replied, smirking to himself. "But I'm watching the road too, don't worry." He figured he wouldn't mention running the stop sign. "How's your day going?"

Abigail sighed in exasperation. "It's insane today! That's why I'm calling. I'm going to have to work a little later than usual, so do you mind if we just stay in tonight and have dinner when I get home? We can reschedule our date night, can't we?"

Though disappointed, Ben tried not to let it come across in his tone. Since getting back together, they hadn't actually spent a lot of time just being _together_. There was the whole process of moving Ben back in and getting him settled, and with Ben back home that also meant that Riley was over almost constantly, and Abigail had also been working longer hours due to the unexpected departure of her assistant. Finally one night Ben pulled out the calendar and marked a big X on the date (which happened to be today), declaring that it would be their 'date night' so they could spend some time together without worrying about work, errands, or Riley.

"Sure, we can reschedule," Ben said.

"You're upset," Abigail stated. "I can hear it in your tone."

_Damn…why was she so good at that?_ "No, no it's fine, Abby. Really. I'll make us some dinner at home, and we'll…I don't know, watch a movie or something?"

"And cuddle?"

Ben grinned. "Of course."

"I'll see you later then. I gotta get back to my meeting."

"Ok," Ben said. "See you later."

"Bye."

"Wait!" Ben exclaimed. "Abby?"

"Hmm?" Abigail replied.

"I love you."

There was a pause on the other end and Ben could almost see the smile forming on her lips. "I love you too, Ben."

Ben arrived home about twenty minutes later, not surprised to see Riley's blazing red Ferrari parked in the driveway. Apparently he was even making a habit out of being over at their house even when neither of them were there.

"Hey," Riley said as Ben walked inside. He was sitting at the kitchen table, laptop in front of him, and leaning back on the chair so it was balancing on the back two legs.

"Hi," Ben replied, tossing the bag with his recent purchase onto the table in front of Riley. "Take a look."

"Aww, a present for me? You shouldn't have," Riley joked, opening the bag quickly and pulling out the small jewelry box.

"What do you think?" Ben asked.

Before Riley opened the box, he looked seriously at Ben. "I think, if you're about to propose, you should get down on your knee. Because I'm _not_ going to say yes unless you do."

"Very funny, wise guy," Ben replied. "Right occasion, wrong recipient."

Riley feigned his disappointment and popped open the box. His mouth dropped open in shock as he stared at the circle of diamonds shining in front of him. "Holy…"

Ben grinned proudly. "Think she'll like it?"

Riley just continued to stare at the ring, and nodded slowly. "Uh huh…" was all he managed.

"Hey, snap out of it," Ben said, taking a couple steps forward as he reached for the ring.

"How much did something like this—" Riley started, and as he grabbed the receipt from the bag, he gasped loudly and the chair he was balancing on fell backwards. The ring went flying through the air, and Ben went chasing after it, managing to catch it just before it hit the floor. Riley, on the other hand, hit the floor with a loud thud.

"Jeez, Riley, can you be a little more careful?" Ben asked in slight annoyance. He inspected the ring carefully to make sure it was still as perfect as it was five seconds prior.

Riley stood up from the floor and stared at Ben in shock. "Are you crazy?!"

"Passionate." Ben corrected.

"Did that really cost 127,000?" Riley exclaimed.

"Oh," Ben said nonchalantly. "No."

Riley looked relieved.

"I actually had to put a 50,000 deposit down first. So it was more like 177,000."

Riley gasped. "You could buy another house for that! Or like, ten cars! Or a small private jet! Or—"

"Ok, Riley, I get it," Ben interjected. "Look, I just wanted the ring to be absolutely perfect. It's one of a kind, you know? Just like Abigail." Ben smiled.

"Thank God for that," Riley mumbled.

Ben ignored the off-hand remark and got himself a glass of iced tea from the refrigerator. He joined Riley at the table and returned the ring and the paperwork back to the bag to keep everything together.

"So what have you been up to?" Ben asked.

Riley looked over at Ben skeptically. "I don't know if I should tell you."

Ben shrugged. "Ok, then."

"I'm writing another book!" Riley blurted out excitedly.

Ben rolled his eyes. "Are you kidding?"

"Just because you didn't read the first one doesn't mean other people didn't enjoy it," he replied defensively. "I'm still working on a title though. Right now I'm debating between 'Beneath the Presidents Heads: The City of Gold' or 'Swimming In Cibola: Poole in a Pool.'"

"Both sound like best-sellers to me," Ben replied sarcastically.

"I think you might be jealous of my creative talent," he suggested. "We'll just see what you have to say when I'm traveling the world, discussing my book and telling about my exciting adventures in treasure hunting."

Ben raised an eyebrow, giving Riley a look of disbelief. "Isn't that what we've been doing for the last few years now?"

"Ah-ha!" Riley exclaimed, waving his finger around in the air as though he were about to make a profound point. He grinned broadly at Ben. "But now, you see, _I_ will be the one having all the excitement while you are at home getting all domestic with your wife!"

"What?" Ben asked, not quite sure what to make of that comment.

Riley didn't plan on elaborating. "Speaking of which, when are you planning to pop the question?"

"Oh," Ben said, pondering the question for a minute. "Soon...probably not until at least next week, though. Abigail's been so stressed out with work lately, she just needs some time to unwind. And I have a conference this weekend, so I'll be out of town for that. Plus, it has to be absolutely perfect, and I need a little time to arrange something special."

Riley nodded. "Where's your conference? How come me and Abby weren't invited?"

Ben shrugged. "I don't know. I don't think you'll be missing much. From the sound of it, it seems like it's just going to be a bunch of historians giving lectures and workshops to the university students."

"Oh. What university?"

"Loyola," Ben said.

"Where's that?" Riley asked, quickly typing it into the search engine to try to find it before Ben could answer him. No such luck.

"Chicago."


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: Thank you for all your reviews and kind words. I truly appreciate them. Enjoy chapter 4!**

**...**

"I still don't understand why you're kicking me out right this second," Riley whined as Ben guided him toward the front door.

"I told you already," Ben replied, "Abigail will be home in a little bit and we want to have an evening to ourselves. _Just us_."

"Oh come on, it's not like I haven't seen you being all kissy-face before," Riley rationalized. When all he got from Ben was a look indicating he wasn't changing his mind, Riley tried the puppy eyes. "Please, let me stay? I'll even take my dinner and go in my own room if that will make you two feel better. Could I join you for the movie though? I'll let you two have the whole couch for your icky cuddling, and I'll just watch the movie and eat the popcorn." Judging by the look he was still getting from Ben, the eyes weren't working this time. "I won't yell at Abby when she shrieks at the most predictable scary parts, I promise! What movie did we get anyway?"

"Ok, just stop right there," Ben said, crossing his arms over his chest. "First of all, you don't have 'your own' room in our house, and the fact that you think you do is an indication that you're spending too much time here. You have your own place, how about staying there once in awhile?"

Riley looked confused, as though it was a completely absurd request. "But, you guys are here."

Ben sighed. "Listen, you know I don't mind when you're here—"

"It's her then!" Riley exclaimed, cutting him off. "Evil woman…"

"Abigail doesn't mind either," Ben defended. "But, we're a couple, Riley. And every now and then some time alone would be appreciated…are you following?"

"I told you I'd stay in my room."

"Ok, one more time," Ben said, obviously growing impatient. "Pay attention. Newly reunited couple. Wants time alone. No distractions."

"Eew, Ben!" Riley exclaimed, shooting Ben a disgusted look. "Don't think I don't know what _that_ means."

"Good then," Ben said, opening the front door and stepping out onto the porch with Riley. "It's a win-win situation, see? Abby and I get our alone time, and you're spared the details. And you can come over tomorrow, ok?"

"Tomorrow?!" Riley cried. "This is gonna take _all night_?"

"Goodbye, Riley!"

"Wait, wait, one more thing," he said, grabbing the door before it could close. "You want me to hold onto your expensive little purchase for you?"

"Are you kidding?" Ben asked. "Give the ring to you, to put somewhere in your overly cluttered apartment?"

Riley shrugged. "Suit yourself! But if Abby goes snooping around and finds it, don't tell me I didn't warn you!"

Riley bounded down the porch steps and climbed into his prized sports car. Within a few seconds, he had backed out of Ben's lengthy driveway and had disappeared in a flash. Ben couldn't help but smile as he thought about how interesting Riley made their lives.

...

Ben had managed to hide the engagement ring in one of his dresser drawers, making sure to put it at the bottom of a pile of t-shirts, when he heard the front door open. He quickly closed the drawer and tore down the stairs, greeting Abigail slightly out of breath, but with a giddy grin.

"You're up to something," she teased, eyeing him suspiciously.

"Who, me?" Ben asked innocently, opening his arms and drawing her into his embrace. He kissed the top of her head and sighed happily. "I missed you."

Abigail smiled. She had forgotten how good it felt to be greeted so affectionately every time she came home. "I missed you, too," she told him, slowly sliding her hands up his chest and over his shoulders, clasping them around his neck as she looked up into his eyes. Before she could even get another word out, Ben had leaned down and brushed his lips lightly against hers. With a contended sigh, Abigail pulled him closer, deeper into a sensual, lingering kiss and the two easily got lost in the moment.

"Mmm," Abby sighed, gently pulling back from his lips and smiling. "That was nice."

"More later," Ben promised. "But for now, dinner."

"I'm going to change first. Tell Riley we're ready to eat."

Ben smiled. "No need for that."

"Ben," Abigail said seriously. "You know him. He'll be really upset if he finds out we ate without him…where is he anyway? Asleep?"

"Riley went home," Ben told her.

Abigail gasped, reacting in an overly dramatic fashion. "I must not have heard you correctly," she said. "Did you say, Riley went _home_?"

Ben nodded. "It's just us tonight."

"Wow, Ben…" she mused, trying to remember the last time they had dinner without Riley. "It's not our anniversary, is it?"

He laughed. "No, I just told him we needed some _alone time_ and…eventually it clicked."

She joined in his laughter. "I bet he couldn't wait to get out of here then."

"And, he won't be back until tomorrow," Ben told her, adding a suggestive wink.

Abigail smiled. "Well then, Mr. Gates, I guess we'll have to take advantage of that."

"My thoughts exactly."

"I'll be right down," she said, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. "You better go check on whatever's beeping in the kitchen."

Ben hadn't even noticed that the timer on the oven had started ringing, and as Abigail ascended the stairs, he rushed into the kitchen to make sure dinner was not ruined.

In the meantime, Abigail had gone upstairs to change out of her business suit and get rid of the high heels that were killing her feet. She couldn't help but laugh as she picked up one of Ben's shirts that was draped across the nightstand, then straightened up a pile of history books that were sprawled all over the bed, and finally almost tripped over one of Ben's shoes lying in the middle of the floor. She quickly scanned the room trying to locate the other one, but couldn't find it. Knowing Ben, it was in another room entirely. There was definitely no mistaking that Ben had moved back home.

And Abigail couldn't have been happier.

The time that they spent apart was more painful than she had expected it to be. A few chilly, unbearably silent nights lying alone in bed proved that. Reaching over and not finding him there always brought her to tears. She had tried drowning herself in her work, and when she wasn't working she would find just about anything to do to keep her mind occupied. She even tried dating again, but that seemed to only accentuate the fact that she belonged with Ben. Even despite some highly irritating faults. But she was sure she had some of her own as well.

Abigail made her way back downstairs and into the kitchen, to see Ben over the stove, appearing to be examining something. She stifled a laugh as she approached him from behind and wrapped her arms around his waist.

"Can you identify it?" She teased.

"I'll have you know, Dr. Chase," Ben began, "I worked very hard this afternoon to make sure this was perfect."

Abigail laughed. "I'm sure it's wonderful, sweetheart."

Ben turned and gave her an unsure look. "Well…if it isn't, we'll just drink more wine. Everything tastes ok with enough wine."

Ben and Abigail enjoyed their meal together, sharing their day's events, with the exception of Ben's purchase of course. He grinned as he thought about it though, gazing affectionately at Abigail as he imagined their life together as husband and wife.

After dinner, and several glasses of wine, the couple decided, without any difficulty, to skip the movie and instead made their way up to the bedroom to take advantage of their Riley-less night.

...

Ben was startled from a deep, peaceful sleep by the shrill ringing of his cell phone. Slowly opening his eyes, he glanced over his shoulder to check the time. 3:48 a.m. Ben's brow furrowed in confusion.

The phone rang again.

Ben's eyes shifted to the dresser, noticing the faint glow of the cell phone screen. Who would be calling at this hour? His heart began to beat a little faster, although he wasn't exactly sure why.

Riley. He just remembered Riley wasn't there. Momentary panic set in as Ben wondered if he was ok.

A third ring of the phone caused Abigail to stir in her sleep. Ben turned his attention to her, and couldn't help but smile as she mumbled something about not wanting to get up yet. Her beautiful, naked body was pressed firmly against Ben's, his arm wrapped securely around her. He didn't relish the thought of having to move out of the comfortable position he was in, but a fourth ring of the phone led him to believe that the caller was not giving up.

Abigail rolled over to her other side so she was facing Ben. She uttered something incoherent and tried to bury her head into his chest. With the next ring, she groaned loudly and Ben leaned down and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek.

"I'll get it, honey. Go back to sleep," he said softly in her ear.

Getting out of bed, Ben grabbed the phone and walked into the hallway. He looked down at the screen. Restricted number. He couldn't understand why he was so hesitant to just answer the phone. Something was giving him a very bad feeling inside.

On the seventh ring, Ben flipped open the phone and placed it against his ear. He hesitated to say anything, but he could clearly hear the deep breathing of the person on the other end of the line.

"Hello?" Ben finally said, walking a little further down the hall, trying not to disturb Abigail.

A long period of silence passed, and Ben almost hung up the phone, when finally someone spoke.

"What can't you see even though it's always in front of you?" Inquired the male voice on the phone.

"What?" Ben asked, slightly taken aback by the odd greeting.

"Think hard, Gates."

Ben's eyes widened and he immediately felt his heart leap into his throat. He knew that voice. He knew it well.

"You're not stumped are you?" The voice taunted. "I would be so disappointed…"

"Ian?" Ben whispered, looking toward the bedroom door and hoping he wasn't loud enough for Abigail to hear.

"That's not the answer, Ben."

"How the hell—"

"I'm asking the questions, Ben," Ian stated boldly. "Now, play along will you? It's so fascinating to see that mind of yours work."

"I'm hanging up now."

"I don't think you want to do that," Ian threatened.

Ben paused, his pulse beginning to quicken and his palms becoming sweaty. "What do you want, Ian?"

"I want you to answer the question," Ian explained in a mock innocent tone. "That's all."

"What if I can't answer it?" Ben tried to bluff. He knew the answer to the riddle.

Ian laughed evilly. "Ah, but you can, can't you Ben?" He paused, waiting for Ben to respond, and when he didn't, Ian's words took on a more serious tone. "Tell you what, Gates. I'll give you the next thirty seconds to answer the question. If you don't want to play, that's fine. I'll go to plan B, and believe me, plan B will not be nearly as much fun for you."

Ben swallowed hard. Apparently this was supposed to be fun?

"The future," he finally responded, hesitantly. "The future is always in front of you, even though you can't see it."

"Very good, Ben," Ian replied contemptuously. "That wasn't so hard, was it? Now, what do you say we talk about that future, shall we?"


	5. Chapter 5

Ben exhaled a long, slow breath, trying to remain calm despite his racing heart. "You want to talk about this now?" he whispered, continuously glancing toward the bedroom for any signs that Abigail was awake.

"Oh, is this a bad time?" Ian mocked. "Very sorry, Ben. But you should be _thanking_ me for having the consideration to wait until you and your little girlfriend were…" he cleared his throat, "finished."

"What?" Ben asked. "How do you—" He stopped mid-sentence as the realization of what Ian was implying struck him. He looked up and down the dark hallway.

"Where are you?" Ben demanded in the most forceful whisper he could manage. He swiftly made his way to the bedroom and pushed open the door. Abigail was still in bed, nothing appeared to be out of place. Ben closed the door again and raced down the stairs, all the while listening to Ian's maniacal laughter on the other end. "Are you in this house?" Ben questioned, a little louder this time as he began checking the entrances to the house as well as the windows. After finding nothing out of the ordinary, he slowed down his pace and nervously raked a hand through his hair.

"That was fun, wasn't it Ben?" Ian finally spoke. "But you can relax, now. I'm not in your house. In fact, I'm nowhere near you."

Ben stopped pacing and walked over to the window in the kitchen, suspiciously peering out into the night sky. "So, what, you have my house bugged?" He asked.

"Ah, the marvels of modern technology," Ian mused.

"You're watching me."

"Every move."

Ben sighed in defeat, and finally collapsed into a chair. "Why?"

"Don't worry, it's only temporary," Ian explained. "I need to make sure you don't try anything stupid once I tell you what the plan is."

"The plan?" Ben questioned.

"Yes…the plan…regarding the future? Remember? You just answered that riddle."

"Just tell me what you want."

"I want you, Ben," Ian stated plainly.

Ben smirked. "I'm flattered, but I'm already taken."

"Oh, right…about her," Ian noted. "It seems you are already planning a future with her? Nice ring, by the way."

"You leave her out of this," Ben ordered, his hands subconsciously forming into fists as his resentment toward Ian continued to grow.

"Oh, I intend to," Ian assured Ben. "This is just for you. Unless, of course, you force my hand and I have no choice but to include her. So, you're going to have to put that future you're planning on hold." He paused for a moment, collecting his thoughts. "It's funny, isn't it, how you can think you have your life, your future, all mapped out, but then one simple act can change it entirely? Who would have thought that just answering the phone would be enough to do that?"

Ben suddenly felt sick, an overwhelming sensation of dread coming over him.

"You have a decision to make now, Ben," Ian said. "But I have a feeling that once you hear your options, it won't be that difficult."

"Get on with it," Ben responded through gritted teeth.

"Sitting for all that time in the pen actually gave me the opportunity to delve into the many secrets of our nation, and all over the world. There are many hunts left, Ben."

Ben didn't respond, though admittedly, Ian's cryptic words piqued his interest. So much of his life had been devoted to treasure hunting; it was a defining feature of who he was. The thrill, the adventure, the challenge…just the mere mention of undiscovered treasure was enough to make him sit up and take notice. It was perhaps his biggest weak spot…well, second biggest.

"I'm listening," Ben remarked cautiously.

"I have organized a team of highly talented individuals, very well-skilled in their respective disciplines, and we're all focused on the same goal, Ben. A treasure…well over 30 million. Only one clue has ever been solved, and many people have tried unsuccessfully to crack the codes to the others. But I believe we can. I'd like you to join the team," Ian explained.

Ben chuckled softly to himself. Too simple. There was no way that was all Ian Howe wanted. Ian was constantly reminding Ben how well he knew him, but apparently forgot that Ben knew Ian just as well. And there was far more to his request that he was holding back. Ben was sure of that.

"If you already have a team of such talented people, why do you need me?" Ben tested.

Ian was quick with a response. "When it comes to decoding ciphers, no one does it better. Simple as that."

"And what if I tell you I won't help you?" Ben inquired.

"Thought you might ask that," Ian remarked. His voice took on a quieter, but firmer tone as he gave Ben an ultimatum. "Here's where your decision comes into play. You can join my team and help us find this treasure. Or you can refuse. And in that case, I will be happy to destroy that other future you so badly desire. It would be tough to marry someone who is no longer there, wouldn't it?"

A surge of adrenaline coursed through Ben's veins and he shot up like a rocket from the chair. "Look, you arrogant son of a bitch, if you or any of your henchmen so much as _breathe_ near her, I will _kill_ _you_. Do you understand?"

Ian laughed evilly. "Don't test me, Ben. You know my resources are limitless. But, I'm getting tired now, and I'd like your decision. What will it be? Are you in? Or, is she…well, out?"

Ben sighed. "What do you need me to do?"

"It's simple really. We're going to stage a little disappearing act for you. The timing couldn't be more perfect, with you in Chicago this weekend for your little historian conference nonsense. Hope you weren't looking forward to it, because you're going to miss it."

"Disappearing act?" Ben questioned. "What are you talking about?"

"Here's the thing, Ben," Ian replied. "Considering the nature of what we're about to take on, coupled with the less-than-exemplary background of my team members, this mission needs to remain low-key. Low-key to the point of nearly undetectable."

"This is a team of _criminals_?" Ben exclaimed in incredulity.

Ian laughed. "Not entirely."

Ben's eyes narrowed. "Wait. How is it that _you're _out of prison? Are you telling me that you weren't legally released?"

"I had a 15-year sentence, Gates," Ian said. "You do the math."

"You broke out."

"I prefer to look at it as a business deal," Ian explained. "And now, there's an eager young prison guard awaiting his repayment for his assistance in my escape. So, the sooner we get this mission underway, the sooner everyone gets what they want."

Ben tapped his fingers nervously on the table. "So let me get this straight. I'm going to fly to Chicago tomorrow night for a conference that I won't actually be attending, and suddenly I'm going to vanish into thin air?"

"You catch on quick."

Ben laughed. "That's ridiculous. A plan like that will never work. My whole life is here. No one will actually believe I just walked away from it."

"It will work beautifully," Ian insisted. "As long as you cooperate."

"Do you not understand what happens when people suddenly go missing?" Ben asked, trying to appeal to whatever logical sense Ian had. "The people who miss them begin searching for them. And then they file missing persons reports—to the _police_. And then the police and detective agencies begin searching. Isn't that exactly what you want to _avoid_?"

"It won't be a problem, Ben. We've covered all possible scenarios."

Ben shook his head. "This is insane."

"You just leave the details to me, and play along. And speaking of details, I will be calling you tomorrow shortly before you leave for the airport to give you explicit instructions on what to do," Ian explained. "Until then, don't even think about breathing a word of this to Dr. Chase or to your techie friend. If you want them to remain uninvolved, they can't know anything. Understood?"

Ben's heart dropped to the pit of his stomach, as he considered the impact this would have on the people he was closest to. How could he do this to Abigail? Everything was back on track between them and now he was going to simply disappear? But then again, how could he not do it? He had to protect her.

"Gates?" Ian asked after a long period of silence.

"I understand," Ben confirmed, the nausea beginning to overpower him again.

"Good decision," Ian replied, then snickered snidely. "Now, you better get back upstairs to bed. It looks like your girlfriend might be a little cold…"

In a sudden burst of rage, Ben hurled the phone across the room with such force that, as it slammed against the wall, the cover and battery both flew off in different directions. He felt tears of anger welling up in his eyes as he let his head fall into his hands, feeling completely helpless in the situation. A few tears fell from his eyes, and he tried taking long, slow breaths to try to calm down. Abigail would know something was up if he went back to bed like this.

Several minutes later, after resigning himself to the fact that he was going to have to participate in Ian's twisted plan, he stood up from the table and slowly made his way back upstairs. Pushing the bedroom door open, the first thing he noticed as his gaze fell on Abigail was that she was curled up in a tight ball, shivering slightly. Ben shook his head as he considered Ian's final words in the conversation. He really was watching them.

Ben walked over to the window, which was still open from earlier, and looked outside. The wind had picked up and the cold breeze rushing in through the screen had cooled off the bedroom considerably. With a shiver that he wasn't sure was a result of the wind, or of the conversation he had just had with Ian, he closed and locked the window, and lowered the shade.

Ben climbed back into bed beside Abigail, and immediately wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. Her shivering stopped almost instantly as her body melded perfectly to Ben's. Ben rested his head against hers, breathing in the familiar, comforting scent of her hair.

"I love you," he whispered. _And I'll do what it takes to keep you safe_, he thought to himself.

Abigail stirred slightly in her sleep, and managed to roll onto her other side, despite the tight grip Ben had around her. She wrapped her arms around him and sighed contentedly.

"Who was that?" Abigail mumbled, still half asleep.

"Hmm?" Ben asked, slowly drifting into the early stages of sleep.

"On the phone," she replied.

Ben opened his eyes. "Oh…er…" he stammered. "Riley."

Abigail giggled. "Did he wake up and not recognize his surroundings?"

Ben smiled half-heartedly. "Something like that…"

She rested her head against his chest, and immediately sensed something was not right.

"Ben," she said with concern. "Your heart is racing. What's wrong?"

Ben took a deep breath, trying to focus on something else, anything that would take his mind off of Ian and slow his heart rate. "Nothing's wrong," he said, unconvincingly. "It's probably just from…running around the house closing up the windows, and then rushing back up here to get back to you."

Abigail looked up and eyed him suspiciously. "You got yourself this worked up closing windows?"

Well when she put it that way, it did sound a little absurd.

"I'm fine, Abby," he said, kissing her tenderly on the forehead. "Really."

Abigail sighed, absolutely positive that there was something he wasn't telling her, but too tired to continue prying. "You'd tell me if something was bothering you, right?"

Ben looked up at the ceiling. "Of course."

Satisfied for the time being, Abigail made herself comfortable against Ben and soothingly rubbed his back, hoping it would help calm him down. It wasn't long before she had drifted back into a peaceful sleep, but for Ben, sleep was almost an impossibility. He couldn't come to terms with the fact that in less than 24 hours, he was going to voluntarily "disappear" from the woman he loved, the woman he was holding in his arms right at that moment. And Riley. What about Riley? Ben toyed with the idea of letting Riley in on the secret…at least then, Riley could provide back-up in case things didn't go as planned. At least Riley would know that Ben hadn't really disappeared and could assure Abigail when she undoubtedly would start questioning. Ben closed his eyes. Was that a risk he could take?

Exhaustion finally got the best of Ben, and he fell into a deep sleep, thankful for the momentary disruption in having to think about what was to happen in the coming days.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N Thank you again for all your reviews...it's always great to get feedback! This chapter is kind of long; hopefully you don't mind. There's quite a bit of Riley and Ben banter though, so enjoy! By the way, for Riley fans, he is going to take a more prominent role in forthcoming chapters, so be patient!**

Friday morning arrived quicker than Ben had hoped. The bright blue sky, highlighted with a few white, wispy clouds, indicated a beautiful day was just beginning. Soft, orange streams of sunlight broke through the cracks of the vertical blinds, naturally illuminating the dining room, where Ben had been sitting in a daze for the last 45 minutes.

Half a cup of now cold coffee sat on top of the table, just above his almost empty bowl of cereal. Mindlessly stirring the bit of milk in the bowl, Ben stared off into space as Ian's threats played over and over in his head. In the distance, he could hear the sound of birds singing in one of the large oak trees out back, and could feel the warmth of the sunlight on the right side of his face. The calm, peaceful, and comforting effects that Mother Nature should have delivered were no match for the unrest and turmoil going on inside of Ben. He sighed and began tapping his spoon against the bottom of the bowl.

"Is that ok, Ben?" Abigail asked from the other room. They were the first words that Ben had heard her say, but judging from the question asked, it was apparent that she had been talking to him prior to asking it. Her head peeked around the corner from the kitchen.

"Ben?"

He looked up at her, a blank expression on his face.

Abigail frowned as she studied the troubled look in his eyes. She momentarily ducked back into the kitchen and poured a hot cup of coffee, then returned back to the dining room. She placed the cup in front of him and then sat down in the chair directly across from him.

"Thank you," he said, staring down at the steaming beverage.

"You're welcome," she acknowledged. She crossed her arms on the table and leaned forward, staring intently at him. He was avoiding eye contact with her as much as possible, and that concerned her.

Earlier that morning, she had come downstairs to discover his cell phone, broken into three parts and scattered around the floor. She picked up the pieces and put it back together, wondering how it got to be that way in the first place. Now, as she watched him carefully for a reaction, she slid the phone across the table to him.

"I found this when I came downstairs," she explained.

His eyes dropped to the phone and he cleared his throat nervously. He quickly pocketed the phone and looked up at her. "Thanks. I dropped it last night, and it was too dark to find all the parts."

"Couldn't you have turned on a light?" Abigail inquired.

Ben shrugged. "I just figured I'd get it in the morning." He tried to offer her a smile in an attempt to mask the real emotions swirling around inside of him, but her intense gaze seemed to penetrate right into his soul.

"I'm worried about you," she finally stated.

"Oh, Abigail," he replied, trying to dismiss her concerns as unfounded. "It's nothing. I'm just a little nervous about this conference, that's all."

She looked at him skeptically. "You've done these conferences and workshops hundreds of times. What's so different about this one?"

_If you only knew_, Ben thought to himself. "Probably nothing."

The faraway look returned to his eyes and she watched him in silence for a few minutes, before finally standing up and sighing heavily.

"I have to get to the Archives," she told him.

Ben looked up at her and nodded, attempting the reassuring smile again.

Abigail walked over to his side and leaned down to kiss his cheek. "I'll see you before you leave."

Before she could back away, Ben reached up and gently grasped the back of her neck, guiding her head back down to his. Their lips met and they shared a sweet, lingering kiss.

"Don't worry about me, ok?" Ben whispered as he pulled away from her lips.

"If you say so," she whispered back.

Ben let his hand fall lightly across her cheek, his thumb tracing the path of her jawbone. "Have a good day today."

Ben waited until he was sure that Abigail had left before he got up and took his dishes out to the sink. Afterwards, he pulled out his phone and pressed the speed dial to Riley. After five rings, Ben was about to hang up, but suddenly heard the tones of several different buttons being pushed at once, then the sound of the phone falling to the floor, then the sound of Riley swearing.

"Hello?" finally answered a very sleepy voice on the other end.

"Riley, it's Ben."

"Awww man, I'm tired Bennnn," Riley whined. "It's too early…"

Ben rolled his eyes. "Riley, I really need you to come over here as soon as you can, ok?"

There was a minute of silence on Riley's end. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Why do you sound so serious then?" Riley asked.

"Just get over here, ok?"

"Oh, I see how it is," Riley joked. "First you kick me out, then you demand I come back. You're getting to be as bad as Abigail."

"Riley…"

"Ok, ok, I'm on my way."

Ben hung up the phone and began nervously pacing through the house. Ten minutes felt like ten hours as he anxiously waited for Riley to show up. He still hadn't decided what he was going to tell Riley, but at this point, he really didn't want to be by himself. Finally, Ben decided to just go upstairs and pack. He made sure to include a few extras of everything since he was unsure how long this was going to take.

Once he was convinced he had packed everything, he scanned the room a final time just to make sure. His eyes fell to the framed photograph of Abigail that he kept on his dresser, and he couldn't help smiling. She took every opportunity to let him know how much she hated that picture, but Ben would just laugh and tell her he loved it. He had never told her how much it had comforted him through the nights during their separation. Just being able to look at her, vowing to make things right—even if only to a picture, fueled the hope he had to be reunited.

"_Ben, do you really need to put that picture up there?" Abigail asked, hands on her hips and a scowl on her face. _

_Ben turned and smiled warmly at her. "Yep."  
She sighed dramatically and walked over to him as he adjusted the frame so he could see it perfectly from his side of the bed. Ben chuckled at her obvious irritation. _

"_What's so bad about this picture?" He asked, hooking an arm around her waist and drawing her close._

_She rolled her eyes and looked disgustedly at it. "Look at it, Ben." He just smiled. He had looked at it. More than she realized. "First of all, look at my hair. It's…it's—"_

"_Beautiful," Ben said, pressing a soft kiss on the top of her head. _

_She looked up at him doubtfully. "Ok, and what's with the expression on my face? It's like I'm—"_

"_Beautiful?" Ben suggested, cutting her off again. _

_She sighed, trying unsuccessfully to hide a smile. "It's definitely not my best picture ever taken."_

"_Hmm, are you sure?" Ben pondered. "Because I think it's beautiful."_

_Abigail shook her head and laughed, then gave him a playful shove. "You're impossible."_

_He smiled. "And you're beautiful."_

"_Benjamin Gates, what am I gonna do with you?" She joked._

"_I might be able to come up with a few ideas…"_

Ben smiled as he recalled the scene in their bedroom right after he'd moved back in. A quick downward glance at his suitcase brought him painfully back to reality, however. He reached over and took the picture from the dresser. Figuring the frame was probably impractical to take along, he took the photograph out of its frame and slipped it into his carry-on bag. He had a feeling he'd be needing it to help him through the nights again.

It wasn't much longer before Ben heard the front door slam shut and Riley's voice at the bottom of the stairs.

"Ben!" He called. "I'm here!"

Ben met him at the bottom of the stairs. "What in the world…" he started, his words trailing off as he observed Riley's appearance. Still clad in pajama pants and a faded t-shirt, with hair going every which way, Riley stood with a big grin on his face.

"You said ASAP," he reminded Ben.

Ben raised an eyebrow. "Well you could have taken a minute to get dressed."

Riley looked down at his outfit and shrugged. "Eh. Good enough. And at least I put on some shoes," he said, holding up his foot and admiring one of his beloved Converse sneakers. "And anyway, it's the shoes that really make the man. Just ask Abby." He paused and winced at his decision to put those two sentences immediately together. "Not that Abby is a man," he tried to recover. "I mean, clearly she's not…men can't look that good in a dress, even though some do try, and wow is that a scary scene," he stopped talking and shuddered. "I just meant, she likes shoes right?…cause women like shoes. Except, I said that about Abby after I said shoes make the man…well, they make the woman too. There. Now you can ask Abby. Cause she's a woman, and not a man. You probably already know that though…"

Ben was already hysterically laughing by the time Riley got finished rambling. "Yes, Riley," he replied, trying to regain a straight face. "I'm very aware that Abby is most definitely _not_ a man."

Riley's eyes narrowed and he pointed a finger at Ben. "Don't you start any of _that_ kind of talk again. Last time, it gave me nightmares for three nights straight."

Ben shook his head in jest, and just looked at his friend. Riley really was the best friend he could have ever asked for. Even now, in the midst of all his anger and fear, here was Riley, making him laugh.

Riley eyed him suspiciously. "Are you checking me out?"

Ben rolled his eyes. "No, Riley. I was just thinking."

"I'm kidding!" He exclaimed, slapping Ben playfully on the shoulder. "So come on, what is it that you needed me over here for?"

"Well," Ben began, but stopped just as quickly. Was it even safe to talk here? Ben looked around the house, peering up at the ceiling, around corners, and even looked in a couple nearby closets. It was making him crazy that Ian could see him, yet Ben couldn't find any trace of a device that would allow him to do so.

Meanwhile, Riley was watching Ben have a temporary moment of insanity, wondering why he was scrutinizing the space that they were standing in.

"Ben?" Riley asked, and Ben jumped, evidently startled.

"Don't do that!" Ben exclaimed.

"What? All I said was 'Ben.'" Riley defended. "Well, actually it was a question. So it was more like, 'Ben?'"

"Let's take a drive," Ben suggested.

"A drive?" Riley asked, looking at him in confusion.

"Yeah," Ben replied. "I need some fresh air."

Riley shrugged. "Ok, but I'm driving!"

"That's probably a safer bet," Ben remarked under his breath as Riley excitedly raced over to his car. _'Never thought there'd come a day when I'd say that,'_ Ben thought to himself.

"Hey, hey, hey, careful!" Riley warned as Ben got into the passenger's seat.

Ben looked over at him questioningly. "What?"

"Be gentle with her," Riley said, petting the dashboard. He noticed Ben's hand on the door handle getting ready to close the door. "And don't!" Ben whipped his head around to see what Riley was yelling about now. "Don't slam the door."

Once the process of getting in the car was finished, Riley backed out of Ben's driveway, and floored it down the street.

"Riley!" Ben yelled, gripping the armrest tightly.

Riley shot Ben an annoyed look and huffed. "It's a Ferrari, Ben! They're supposed to go fast!"

"Ok, ok!" he yelled back, trying to talk over the wind whooshing by. "But I need to talk to you, and I don't really want to have to scream at you!"

Riley slowed down to a mere 70 mph, which Ben still thought was a little fast on that particular road, but he was willing to compromise at this point. He looked over at Riley, who grinned from ear to ear as he drove along the road.

Sensing that Ben's eyes were on him, Riley looked over at Ben and laughed. "You still got that look of fear in your eyes. Come on, I'm not that bad of a driver."

"Debatable," Ben muttered under his breath.

They drove a little further down the road before Ben began to talk to Riley about why he had called him.

"Listen," Ben said in a serious tone. "I'm gonna need to ask you to do a couple favors for me while I'm gone."

Riley looked over at him again. "Ok…sure, Ben. But…could you stop looking at me like that? You look like a zombie and it's freaking me out. Didn't you sleep last night?"

"Sorry," Ben said, turning to watch the road in front of him. "It was a…rough night."

"I knew it!" Riley yelled enthusiastically. "You guys missed me!"

"Not quite."

"Oh," Riley considered. "Is Abby mad at you?"

Ben shook his head. "No."

"Well that must be nice for a change," Riley joked.

Ben glanced over at him, obviously unamused.

"Sorry!" Riley laughed. "Ok, then what happened? Why are you so stressed out?"

"I'm not stressed out!" Ben exclaimed in a very stressed-out tone.

Riley looked at him doubtfully. "Ok then…"

"Listen, I have to leave for Chicago tonight," Ben explained after a few minutes of silence. Even in the moment, he had no idea what or how to tell Riley about Ian. And what if Ian somehow found out, and went after Abigail. Ben knew he would never forgive himself if something he did led to her being hurt in any way. And who knows if Ian would even stop after that. Would he go for Riley next, or Ben's parents? Ben sighed loudly and closed his eyes for a minute, collecting his thoughts.

"Oh now I understand," Riley said. "It's that beepity beep beep airport they have there in Chicago, isn't it?"

Ben chuckled slightly at Riley's censoring of his own language.

"Know how many times I've been stuck there?" Riley continued. "Missed a connecting flight, or OH! Get this one! Once a flight was full, and they wouldn't let me on, and I HAD A TICKET!" Riley shuddered. "I hate that airport. O'hare, O'schmare."

"I need you to check in on Abigail a couple times, ok?" Ben suddenly stated.

Riley looked confused. "Check in on her? Good thing she's not in the car to hear that one…she'd be all," he cleared his throat and tested out his higher pitched 'Abigail impression' voice before continuing. "She'd be all like 'Benjamin Gates, a strong independent woman such as myself does _not_ need looked in on! This continues to be a problem with the men in this world thinking that women just cannot take care of themselves…blah blah blah blah German swearword blah blah blah…and furthermore, there you go again making decisions about me without consulting me first. Did you think to ask me if I needed checked in on? No of course you didn't, because Benjamin Gates always has the right answer and knows what's best before—"

"Ok!" Ben held up his hand to halt Riley's speech. He just stared at Riley until he looked over and acknowledged Ben.

"Sorry, couldn't resist," he told him.

Ben shook his head in bewilderment. "It is _utterly_ frightening how into that you were getting."

Riley just laughed.

"So, like I was saying, if you wouldn't mind just stopping by a couple times while I'm gone, I'd appreciate it," Ben explained, trying to come up with a good excuse. "She's just seemed a little…off, lately. She said she's ok though, so don't ask her about it. But, um…I'll feel better knowing someone is looking out for her while I'm gone."

"Ok," Riley concurred. "That's no problem."

"Thanks," Ben said, feeling only slightly relieved. "One other thing."

"I will not, I repeat, _not_ kiss her goodnight for you," Riley joked. He sensed that something else was bothering Ben and was doing his best to try to make him laugh. Sometimes it worked, sometimes not.

Ben looked over at Riley, raising an eyebrow. "You got that right."

"Kidding, Ben. I'm kidding."

"I want you to hang on to this," Ben said, pulling the small jewelry box out of his pocket.

Riley saw what he was holding, gasped loudly, and almost veered off the road into a tree.

"Riley!" Ben yelled, grabbing the armrest again as Riley straightened the car out and slowed his speed a little more.

"What!?" Riley exclaimed. "I can't hold on to that ring!"

"Please, Riley. I thought about what you said yesterday, and you're right, Abigail does like to snoop around when she thinks something is up." Ben paused. _And she is definitely going to think something is up when I don't come home on Sunday night_, he thought. "Can you just hang onto it until I get back? I'm sure there must be someplace in your apartment that you can put it and it won't get lost."

Riley thought about it, then grinned at Ben. "Yes there is! I'll put it in the oven!"

Ben gasped in shock. "What?!"

"What?" Riley asked, as though he didn't find anything strange about his 'hiding place.' "You think I actually use the oven?"

"Oh," Ben said, breathing a sigh of relief.

"Come on now, I have a microwave. I don't even know why I need this other giant version of one."

"Sometimes I wonder about you," Ben remarked.

"I appreciate your concern, but at this exact moment, I don't think I'm the one you should be worrying about."

"So, you'll hang onto it for me?" Ben asked, ignoring his last comment. "And not mention it to Abigail? _At all?_"

"Sure," Riley said. "My lips are sealed."

"That would be a first," Ben mumbled.

"I heard that!" Riley exclaimed.

Ben laughed. "Thanks, Riley. I really appreciate you doing those couple things for me. You have no idea…"

"Relax, Ben. It's really no big deal. I mean, come on…I've helped you steal the Declaration of Independence, helped arrange for you to kidnap the President, been shot at a number of times, was pretty close to drowning, and almost fell off a giant teetering platform into some great abyss," Riley pointed out. "I think throwing a ring in the oven and dropping by to see Abby is pretty mild compared to those."

"Right," Ben agreed and leaned back in the passenger's seat. He felt a tiny bit better knowing that Riley would keep an eye on Abigail. Though that was _his_ job, and he was resenting the entire notion of being forcibly separated from her and not even being "allowed" to explain why.

"I just love her so much, Riley," Ben said sincerely, though the statement seemed to come out of nowhere.

Riley glanced over at Ben, who was staring blankly out the window. "Abigail?"

Ben didn't respond. He continued to watch the trees passing by the window, spaced just about the same distance apart. He counted one and a half seconds after each tree, the repetitive pattern becoming almost hypnotic.

Several minutes later, he broke his trance and looked back at Riley. "I didn't think it was possible, not for me at least," he admitted.

Riley looked confused. "What didn't you think was possible?"

"Love. This kind of love, anyway," Ben said, taking a long, deep breath and exhaling slowly. "I can't even put it into words. It's like…I don't know…it's like a part of me was always missing, and I don't think I even realized it until I met her. It's funny, I spent so much time searching for the Templar Treasure, thinking if I could just find it and prove to my dad that it really did exist; thinking that ever since my grandfather told me the story that finding it would be the one thing that would truly give me satisfaction. And don't get me wrong—finally finding it was undoubtedly one of the greatest moments in my life, but…finding Abigail was what truly made me feel whole. Like I didn't need another thing in this world as long as I had her."

Riley looked over at Ben, not quite sure what to say. Ben wasn't one to just pour his heart out like that. Sure, Riley knew that Ben felt deeply emotional and passionate about things, but he didn't _express_ it. Ben was practical and logical, focused, driven, intense, determined. Once he made up his mind that he wanted something, he went for it, and didn't stop until he got it. For all the time that Riley had known Ben, he could think of very few times when Ben actually let anyone know what was going on in his heart. His head, now that was a different story. Riley always knew what was going on in Ben's mind. So this…this was one of those rare glimpses into the heart of Ben…though, Riley couldn't quite make sense of why he was revealing it right this minute. And the underlying tone of his words...sadness, or, loss. It didn't seem to make a lot of sense, especially considering he had Abigail and he was going to marry her. The attitude had shifted greatly from the day before, when you couldn't wipe the grin off his face as he showed Riley the ring and talked about marrying Abby.

"Uh…" Riley said, figuring he should at least acknowledge Ben's words. Not overly profound, but at least Ben knew Riley was listening.

"Uh?" Ben asked. "Is that for me to interpret?"

"I just, well, ya know," Riley started. "I'm not used to you being all, ya know…mushy like that."

Ben shrugged. "Abby tells me I need to be more open about my feelings."

"I see," Riley said with a laugh. "So apparently you've started watching Lifetime movies to get some ideas?"

"Very funny, Riley," Ben retorted. "And anyway, how would you know so much about Lifetime movies?"

"Oh…err…" Riley mumbled, his face suddenly turning slightly pink, and he quickly returned his eyes to the road in front of him. Ben just chuckled to himself.

The rest of the ride was consumed with mindless small talk about completely irrelevant topics. Ben didn't mind it though. It was nice to just be in the company of his friend and not have to think about his problems.

That is, until his cell phone started ringing.

A wave of nausea came over Ben and he immediately felt his pulse begin to quicken. After the fourth ring, Riley looked over at him.

"Aren't you gonna answer that?"

"What?" Ben asked.

"The phone. Your phone is ringing."

"I know," he replied, taking the phone out of his pocket. _Please, please be anyone other than Ian, _he prayed silently_. _

But just as he looked down at the screen, the phone stopped ringing.

_Thank you!_

"Hmm," Ben considered. "Must have been the wrong number."

No sooner had he gotten the words out of his mouth that the phone began to ring again. Ben looked down at the screen again. Restricted Number.

"Looks like someone really wants to talk to you," Riley noted.

Ben continued to stare down at the phone.

"Hey, are you ok?" Riley asked.

"Yeah, fine," Ben said. "They can leave a message and I'll get back to them later."

Riley looked doubtfully at Ben. "What if it's Abby?"

"It's not."

"How do you know?"

"Her number shows up on my screen."

"What if she's calling from somewhere else?"

Riley was obviously becoming suspicious of Ben, and the last thing Ben needed was for him to keep asking questions. Reluctantly, Ben flipped open the phone and placed it next to his ear. He noticed out of the corner of his eye that Riley was watching him carefully, probably more carefully than he was watching the road.

"Hello?" Ben said quietly.

"Showtime."


	7. Chapter 7

Ben could feel the watchful eyes of Riley on him, waiting for Ben to respond to the voice on the other end of the phone. He glanced sideways at Riley and shrugged his shoulders, and when Riley mouthed the words, "Who is it?" Ben just shook his head to indicate that he didn't know.

"Um," Ben started, clearing his throat loudly. "I think you must have the wrong number."

"I bet you wish that were true," Ian replied.

"Actually, there's no one here by that name," Ben continued. "We don't know anyone by the name of George Washington, do we _Riley_?" He emphasized Riley's name so that Ian knew he was not alone.

"George Washington!?" Riley exclaimed. "Who is that? Martha?"

Ben tried not to laugh, shifting the phone over to his left ear so Ian could hear that Riley was really in the car with Ben.

"She ought to know that George is gone—heck, he should be _with_ her!" Riley continued enthusiastically. "Tell her I think her husband did a fine job leading this country. It's never easy to be the first, ya know, having to set the bar and all. But he did great! It's too bad that most people don't know more about him than that cherry tree cutting story, though."

Ben looked over at him in amusement.

"I cannot tell a lie," Riley imitated in a voice quite similar to his Abigail voice. "I mean, come on, for all the great things that he did for this country, does the cherry tree really matter?"

"You're with that idiot," Ian acknowledged.

"Yes," Ben said, figuring now was not the time to argue about his use of the term 'idiot.' After all, if it was "Martha," she probably wouldn't have just asked Ben if he was with 'that idiot.'

"It's so cool that you can make these kinds of phone calls even from beyond!" Riley continued, and Ian sighed loudly in annoyance in Ben's ear. "I wonder if you'd have to really channel all your energy in order to like, dial? How do you think she pushed the buttons? And hey, how cool is it that she totally knew to call the history genius? This can't be coincidence Ben!"

"Get rid of him soon," Ian said in a highly irritated tone. "I'll call back in two hours."

With that, the call went dead.

Ben flipped his phone shut and looked at Riley with a hint of surprise. "I didn't realize you were such a fan of our first president."

Riley laughed. "Pretty good, huh? Now, who was that really?"

"I don't know," Ben lied. "Someone looking for someone named George Washington."

"Are you being serious?" Riley asked.

Ben nodded. "It's a more common name than you might think."

"No way!" Riley yelled. "That would be like…like…playing for the 49ers and thinking you can wear Montana's number!"

Ben just shook his head and chuckled to himself. "So, what are all these 'great things' that you're aware of that Washington did in his time as president?"

Riley gave him a funny look. "How should I know? I only know about the cherry tree."

...

Ian walked swiftly up the lengthy stretch of concrete that had once been someone's driveway. Obviously, it hadn't been in quite awhile. The cement was uneven and cracked in many places, with tall, prickly weeds rising up from the ground below in between the cracks. The tall brunette followed closely behind Ian, maintaining her air of mystique by carefully choosing her words, and making them few and far between.

Ian wasn't sure what to make of her yet. Ciara McNeil. Age 36. Exceptionally intelligent, boasting an IQ of around 175. Accepted into the pre-med program at UCLA by age 16. Dropped out for unexplained reasons by age 19. Moved to New York. Independently wealthy by age 24. The method of attaining such wealth still remains an ambiguity, a mystery that Ms. McNeil seemed intent on keeping secret. Exotically beautiful and unabashedly seductive, she was a popular dancer at an upscale 'gentleman's club' for several months. Though she probably made a small fortune in that line of business, it didn't make sense that she could have become worth well over a million in just a couple years.

There had been some past speculation about her involvement in a particular large-scale con in New York City about 13 years prior, though never confirmed, and in fact, never investigated once nearly forty other individuals were apprehended and convicted for their involvement. Ian had followed the details of that case, compelled by the sheer genius it would have taken to pull it off. Though, he didn't believe that Ciara McNeil was involved with the scam. He believed she was the mastermind behind it. To think…a 22-year-old would be able to organize one of the greatest acts of fraud in U.S. history, and to cover her tracks so well that even amidst police investigations and courtroom trials for accomplices that could have easily turned on her at any moment, she remained entirely overlooked. Of course, this was all completely unconfirmed and simply jailhouse speculation among inmates who were familiar with the case, but just the idea that it was possible turned Ian on more than he was willing to admit. It seemed no one other than Ciara could confirm any speculation about her involvement anyway, and it was obvious she had no intention of doing that. The only other person who might have been aware of her closely guarded secrets was Ben Gates. After all, at one time, they had been quite close...

Ian unlocked the front door of the two-story apartment building. Upon walking inside the foyer, it was evident that the building had been closed up for a long period of time. The air was damp and stale, and dust covered the few pieces of furniture that remained from past residents. Wallpaper was peeling in the corners, and the rugs were worn thin, in some places so thin that they were simply strands of fiber. So it needed some work. It would do though; it would be perfectly adequate for his intentions.

"So, what do you think?" Ian addressed Ciara, as he led her into what was probably once a family room or den. A large, round table sat in the middle of the floor with five chairs surrounding it. It seemed oddly placed in such an empty area otherwise.

Ciara McNeil, who had just recently met Ian Howe face-to-face for the first time after being intrigued by his proposition, arched her eyebrows. "It looks like a hell hole," she stated bluntly.

Ian frowned. "You just say whatever's on your mind, don't you?"

She smiled cleverly. "That's my nature, Mr. Howe. I've learned from experience that if you're not willing to speak your mind, others may think they can speak it for you. And I haven't gotten this far in life by sitting back and letting others dictate to me."

Ian snickered. Spoken like a true _mastermind_. He had wondered over the past couple days if it was her natural inclination to be in control that was causing the friction between him and her. She may very well be an incredible mastermind, but she would not be in control this time. This was Ian's time to dictate. He wanted to be the one solely responsible for Ben's final fate.

"How is it that you managed to get mixed up with Gates anyway?" Ian queried.

"How did I get mixed up with Ben," she repeated thoughtfully, shaking her head as she laughed to herself. "Would youthful stupidity be enough of an explanation?"

"Perhaps," Ian considered, then gave her a doubtful look, "if you had chosen a word other than 'stupidity.' I think we both know that word, or any of its close cousins, could never be used to describe you in any respect."

"Hmm. Sounds like you're trying to get on my good side."

Ian laughed. "That might be helpful if we're working on the same team."

Ciara sighed. "How Ben became involved in my life is really not important anymore. It was a mistake I don't care to relive. Everyone has moments of weakness, and perhaps one of my biggest was falling for Ben's charm. He's a very intriguing man, as I'm sure you must know." She turned and looked Ian in the eyes. "He shouldn't be underestimated, Ian. He's a very driven man."

"That's why we worked so well together," Ian agreed.

"Somehow I can't see you being 'driven' by the same motivations," Ciara observed.

Ian smiled. "And that's what destroyed what could have been an unstoppable force."

"You were smart to organize a team to bring him down," she told him.

"I could have done it myself," he retorted with a scowl.

Ciara laughed in disbelief. "I'll bet."

Ian raised an eyebrow as he observed her. "You certainly do give him a lot of credit. I'm almost inclined to believe that you might still be harboring some nostalgic feelings for your ex…"

Ciara frowned, crossing her arms over her chest. "The only feelings I'm harboring in regard to Benjamin Gates are animosity and retribution. His time is about to come."

Ian opened his mouth to reply, but before he could do so, the pair heard the front door slam closed and a loud clearing of a throat. Ciara looked questioningly at Ian, and a knowing smile crept across his lips as the sound of quick, steady footsteps tapping across the linoleum floor in the kitchen approached them.

"This must be…" Ian began, just as an older man appeared in the door frame. "Mr. Savage. So glad you could join us."

Ciara, who immediately recognized the name but not the face, gave the man the once-over. He was more distinguished in appearance than what she would have expected. Slicked back silver hair framed a naturally bronzed face, distinct facial features and chilling, gray eyes. He stood about 6'2 with a medium build, and dressed sharp in dark black pants and a silvery gray button-down shirt. Ciara's gaze fell to waist-level, noticing the knuckles on his left hand had turned white as he tightly clutched a leather brief case.

"Ian," Savage acknowledged with a nod. He turned to Ciara and took a couple steps toward her. "Ryker Savage," he introduced, extending his hand to her. "I prefer to go by Savage, though."

"I know," she said, shaking his hand. "I know all about you in fact. And allow me to just say that I think your name suits you perfectly. My name is Ciara. Ciara McNeil."

Savage's eyes narrowed as he studied the young woman in front of him. "Should I know you?"

"Well, I'm not one of your former students, if that's what you're wondering," she told him, laughing in jest. "Though I guess I'd be about the right age, wouldn't I? Those girls you were so…fond of, shall we say? They'd be about 35 or 36 now, right?"

A curious smile played at the corners of Savage's lips, and he stroked his chin in thought.

"Ms. McNeil, I don't know who you are, but I believe you might be venturing into territory you're unfamiliar with," he explained, then leaned in closer to her as he lowered his voice. "If you're not careful, you might end up in an area that you really don't want to be."

_Ryker Savage_, Ciara thought to herself. _So this is who you are_. Of the three of them now standing there, Ciara wondered which of them Ben would be least pleased to see. For the last couple days, she suspected it would be a toss-up between herself and Ian, but now that Mr. Savage was in the mix, she wasn't so sure. Ben absolutely detested him. She could remember the anger in his eyes when he would remember those days in high school. It was a long time ago, but Ciara was sure that seeing the former high school history teacher would still profoundly affect Ben.

Ciara looked at Savage, trying to picture him twenty years younger. More than likely, he'd have been in his mid to late 30s, and probably quite attractive. She could easily see him as the teacher that all the girls had a crush on. The thing is, the crush isn't supposed to be reciprocated by the teacher, and certainly not acted upon.

Ben had enjoyed history class with Mr. Savage. The teacher was young and passionate about history, and he made it so interesting. Ben looked forward to his sophomore history class, never knowing if the class was going to reenact the Battle of Gettysburg, debate about early issues between the north and the south, or "meet" a historical figure that came back from the grave to teach the class for that day. Mr. Savage had noticed Ben's obvious interest in history, and had encouraged Ben to pursue his desire to learn, to understand how our world came to be what it is in the present. When Ben had questions, he knew he could stay after class and talk with Mr. Savage, and it seemed he always had the answers. Ben admired his teacher tremendously.

Needless to say, it came as a devastating blow to Ben the day he witnessed his mentor engaged in highly inappropriate sexual activity with not one, but two of the young girls in his class. He had stayed after school to work on a project for a science class, and before he left, he remembered wanting to ask Mr. Savage a question about Lincoln's presidency. Before he got to his classroom, he noticed the door was shut, and almost turned to leave. Mr. Savage always left the door open for students, so Ben figured he had left for the day. But before he turned around, he heard a distinctly high-pitched squeal, followed by laughter, and the muffled voice of his teacher. Ben excitedly went back to the classroom and opened the door. What he saw there horrified him and he stared in disbelief at the scene before him. He was speechless and visibly shaken. How could this be happening? He admired this man, he enjoyed learning from him, heck, he wanted to be just like him someday. The thought made him sick, and he threw up all over the classroom floor before turning and running as far away from that classroom as possible.

Savage cornered Ben the next day and threatened him, threatened _his life,_ if he told anyone what he had seen the day before. Ben was scared. He hated going to history class, and ended up skipping it more than attending it. He wanted to tell someone. Every time he had to stay after school and he saw Mr. Savage's door closed, he knew what was happening there. He was in there, stealing the innocence of young girls who he claimed to "love." The breaking point for Ben came when a good friend of his, Amanda, was sitting on the floor against the lockers, her head buried in her hands as she sobbed. When Ben found her and asked her what was wrong, she simply looked at him, her eyes riddled with guilt and regret, and looked toward the teacher's classroom. Ben helped her get up, and hugged her for a long time, and vowed to make sure that Savage wouldn't have the chance to hurt another of his classmates.

Things moved quickly after that point. Ben and Amanda told school authorities what was going on, and it rapidly escalated into a police investigation, and finally a court trial. Ben was more than willing to give his testimony, no longer afraid of Savage's threats. In the end, Ryker Savage was convicted and sentenced to a jail term of twenty years.

Those twenty years were now up.

...

Ciara and Savage stared each other down for several more seconds before Ian decided to break the tension between them.

"Well," Ian said with an awkward laugh. "I see we're getting off to a good start. Let's try to keep in mind we're all on the same team here, ok?"

"Right," Ciara said, then nodded toward Savage. "Well I certainly know what you're after in regard to Ben."

"And I wonder how you might know that," he remarked. "Just what is your connection to Gates?"

"Why don't we sit down?" Ian said, leading the two to the table.

Savage sat down at one of the chairs and Ciara took the one farthest away from him. Ian sat down between them.

"Ciara is Ben's ex," Ian volunteered. "And from what I understand, things didn't exactly end well…"

"That's the understatement of the year," Ciara muttered under her breath.

Savage began laughing hysterically. "Well, this ought to be a real enjoyable reunion for everyone's favorite saint, Benny, shouldn't it?"

Ian and Ciara joined in with the laughter.

"But wait!" Ian announced abruptly. "There's one more."

"Another one?" Savage inquired. "This just keeps getting better, doesn't it?"

As if right on cue, the group heard the front door close again, and Ciara and Savage exchanged glances, both trying to imagine who this final person could be. Ian just smiled smugly.

Footsteps were running through the building, coming to a halt in the doorway of their meeting room. The three looked at the ragged, scrawny young man standing before them, holding a laptop case in one hand and a wad of wires in the other. He flashed them a toothy grin as he caught his breath.

Ciara raised a suspicious eyebrow as she looked the kid over. Yes, _the kid_. She shook her head, wondering what Ian was thinking getting a teenager involved. Her questions were answered even before she asked them.

"Come on in, son," Ian said, gesturing to the youth to take a seat at the table. "Ciara, Sav, allow me to introduce Declan." The boy walked further into the room and gave a nervous half-wave to the two people he didn't know. "Declan _Wilkinson_," Ian clarified.

The light bulb suddenly went off in Ciara's head. She had read the papers, seen the pictures, knew that Mitch Wilkinson had died tragically during Ben's last treasure-hunting quest when they discovered Cibola. Now looking at the boy more closely, she could easily identify some of the same features as the pictures she had seen of Mitch. This was Mitch's son.

"Don't call me Declan," the teen said, glaring at Ian. "I don't like it. I go by Dex."

Ian chuckled. "Alright, _Dex_, why don't you take a seat and we can start discussing the plan here. Ben will be in Chicago tonight."

Dex sat down in the chair between Ian and Ciara and placed his laptop bag on the floor, and the wires he left a jumbled mess in front of him.

Ciara could still not get over the fact that he looked so young. Ian, Savage, and she were all adults, fully aware of risks and consequences, fully aware of the dangers that could lie ahead.

"Dex, how old are you?" She blurted out.

He looked over at her, debating whether to lie or tell the truth. "17," he finally said.

"Ian!" She cried, shooting him a look like he was insane. "This is just a _boy_! What are you thinking?"

"Hey!" Dex yelled defensively. He seemed about ten times bolder than he had five minutes prior. "My father is _dead_ because of Gates. I'm in."

Ciara offered him a sympathetic smile, but still felt quite uneasy about his involvement.

"Besides," Ian said. "Dex is a technological genius. We're going to need him to pull this off, and I know he's up for the task, aren't you Dex?"

Dex nodded.

"Just for starters, at this current moment, I could turn on a monitor and have access to Ben's house. And do you know how I can do that?"

Ciara shook her head and Savage shrugged his shoulders.

"Me neither," Ian said, laughing. "But Dex _does_. He set it up for us. A few clicks of the mouse and he can hack into just about anything. We're going to need him. And he has just as much desire to bring Ben down as the rest of us do. So you're just going to have to accept the fact that he's young."

Ciara snickered and looked directly at Savage. "Well we know _you_ don't have any problem with youth, don't we now."

"Careful," he warned.

The four sat in silence for several minutes, exchanging glances and sizing each other up. Ian was pleased with this team. The mysterious seductress, the history and ancient linguistics expert, and the computer geek. They all had their parts to play. And with Ian's mind at the forefront of it all, Ben didn't stand a chance.

At last, all of their glances seemed to divert to the final empty chair at the table.

"Is someone else joining us?" Savage finally asked.

Ian smiled. "Yes, someone very important."

"This someone is also connected to Ben?" Ciara inquired.

Ian leaned forward, slowly looking around the table, making steady eye contact with each of his new teammates. A sly grin slowly crept across his lips.

"This someone _is_ Ben."


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N - I'm soooo sorry it took so long for this update! Was out of town for a bit, and then work got crazy...hopefully now things are calming down and I can update more frequently. I'm definitely continuing with the story though...thanks, as always, for reading. And of course, thank you for your reviews!**

A trio of stunned faces gawked back at Ian as his statement was slowly being processed in each of their minds. Ciara turned her head to the side and looked at Savage, who quickly made eye contact with her but then returned his stare back to Ian. He was the first to decide to address the obvious problem Ian had just presented to them.

"What the hell are you talking about?" He asked. "I thought we were going to do away with Gates."

Ian just continued to smile, lightly tapping his fingers together. "And we are."

Ciara shook her head in confusion. "How does bringing him on board with us equal his demise? It sounds like he's just gonna be getting in on our lucrative deal."

"Oh, he's gonna be getting _in_ on it alright," Ian remarked, suddenly standing up from the table. "In over his head."

"I'm confused," Dex muttered under his breath, staring down at the pile of wires in front of him.

Ian looked over at him. "Don't worry kid, it looks like you're not the only one." He sighed heavily as if completely burdened by all of their questioning. "Such intelligent people in their own rights…but apparently that's where the intelligence stops."

Savage stood up from the table and glared at Ian. "Howe, you better explain this plan of yours soon because in about 30 seconds I'm out of here. I have no time or patience to play these little cat and mouse games with you and Gates."

"I assure you," Ian said, meeting his icy stare with one of his own, "the only one getting played here is going to be our Benny boy."

Savage sat back down hesitantly, glancing once at Ciara and then at Dex. Ian cleared his throat loudly to regain all of their attention.

"It seems you're all forgetting some key information here," Ian explained. "Just to refresh your memory, we're dealing with ciphers that have been attempted to be solved by many of the world's experts. The key word there is 'attempted.' There are three, and only one has been solved." He paused, watching to see if the light bulb was turning on in any of their minds. Apparently not yet. "I don't like to give Ben credit for anything, but if there's one thing he does know, it's these ridiculous ciphers and codes and riddles and crap."

"We need him to crack the code?" Dex asked.

"Ding ding ding, we have a winner," Ian said sarcastically.

Savage opened his mouth to object to Ian's plan, but Ian held up his hand as a nonverbal sign to keep his mouth shut.

"Secondly," he continued, "Saint Benjamin's noble quest to rid the world of all its evils has affected all of us. And now it's finally his time to pay." He looked at Savage. "You sat in prison for twenty years, thanks to Ben." He turned to Dex. "You lost your father because of Ben." And finally he turned and met Ciara's suspicious glance. "And you, well, you just trusted the wrong man with some highly consequential information, didn't you? Betrayal is bad enough, but betrayal from the one you love…"

Ciara's eyes narrowed and she pursed her lips, feeling her body immediately tensing up. "How do you know anything about that?"

Ian shrugged, smiling knowingly. "Lucky guess."

"Listen," Savage said impatiently, breaking the staring contest between Ian and Ciara. "I still don't see how bringing him on board is going to make him pay. Wouldn't it be more satisfying to bring him here and blow his brains out?"

Dex looked over at the older man, trying to make a connection between the sophisticated and distinguished appearance of Savage and the rather barbaric phrase that just came out of his mouth. Somehow, it didn't seem to match up.

Ian laughed. "Admittedly, there would be a certain satisfaction in that."

"Depends who got to pull the trigger," Ciara noted.

Savage looked over at her. "Well perhaps we could all shoot on the count of three."

"Alright, alright," Ian said, trying to refocus the group. "We can think about what is to become of Ben after we're through with him. But for now, if we're going to get anywhere near this treasure, we need his expertise."

"Codes," Dex confirmed.

"Yes. But have patience, my friends," Ian assured. "We're simply going to use him for what we need, and when he's no longer necessary…"

A sinister sneer crept across Savage's lips as he formed his thumb and index finger into the shape of a gun. "Bang," he said, laughing to himself as he pretended to fire the gun.

"Sayonara, Benjamin," Ian confirmed.

...

Ben nervously paced back and forth through the hallway, still waiting for Ian's promised call. Four hours had passed since Riley had left, and still the phone call hadn't come. Abigail would be home in an hour, and shortly after that, he'd be on his way to the airport. And God only knew what after that.

He reached into his pocket and pulled his cell phone out, looking down at it before beginning to mindlessly twirl it in his hand. He could still give Riley some sort of clue, if only… he looked around the ceiling and the walls. If only he knew where to go where he wasn't being observed.

His pondering was interrupted by the familiar hum of Abigail's car rolling up the driveway, and he quickly spun his body around, glancing at the clock on the wall. She was early. With a distraught sigh, he put the phone back in his pocket and went to meet Abigail at the door as she was walking up the porch.

Abigail greeted Ben with an ear-to-ear grin as she bounced up the porch steps. "Hey handsome," she said, dropping her purse to the ground and eagerly wrapped her arms around him in a tight embrace.

"You're home early," Ben remarked flatly.

Abigail, noting the abnormal lack of enthusiasm and the fact that his arms were still dangling by his sides, pulled away slightly and looked up at his face. "Is that ok?"

"Huh?" Ben asked, staring blankly at a point just over her head. He had suddenly began to wonder whether Ian could see outside of their house too, or just inside? Did he rig Ben's cars too? After Ben was on his way to Chicago, would Ian still be watching Abigail? Would she really be safe here, alone? Maybe he should have asked Riley to just stay there for the weekend, but that would have been highly suspicious. The thoughts were now flooding his mind, coming at him from all directions and without realizing it, his breathing became harder and faster. _Tell her, Ben…tell her everything. No, you can't… She's gonna be really mad when she finds out. But mad is better than dead. Wait. What if we just left? Take Abby and disappear. Leave town. Leave the country. Leave the continent if necessary. Take her and go, Ben. There's not much time. Wait. But what about Riley. Take him too. And your parents. Take them too. This is becoming too complicated. _

"Ben," Abigail stated firmly, becoming more and more irritated with his constant zoning out. Even more irritated by the fact that he wouldn't talk to her about it. She thought they had finally come to an understanding about him including her and not just making all the decisions on his own and handling everything Ben's way. Obviously that was too good to be true.

"Benjamin Gates."

Even amid the rush of thoughts in his head, he recognized _that_ tone instantly and immediately snapped out of his daze, turning his attention back to Abigail. _The_ tone. She was angry. Ben could even see _the_ tone in her eyes. _If the next word out of her mouth is 'so,' you are in some serious hot water…_

Taking a deep breath, he smiled warmly and pulled her close to him again. "I'm sorry," he said. "I don't know what's wrong with me, Abby. I just feel so uneasy about this conference. But of course it's ok that you're home early. I'm glad you are. I was just…surprised." _Please don't say 'so.'_

Her eyes softened a little as she let out a deep sigh, resting her head against his chest. She didn't want to argue with him. "I wish you'd just tell me."

Ben kissed her forehead. "Tell you what?"

"You know what," she said. "It's me who doesn't."

...

Ian tossed a large pile of paper-clipped news articles into the center of the table. "I've been keeping tabs on our boy over the last few years," he explained.

Savage pulled the neatly organized collection toward him and unclipped them, beginning to thumb through various photographs and articles from newspapers and magazines.

Ciara eyed the stack of clippings and raised an eyebrow as she met Ian's stare. "I think you might be obsessed."

"Obsessed?" Ian pondered, stroking his chin lightly in thought. "In the true sense of its meaning, that's a very strong term."

Savage looked up and smiled. "From the Latin _obsidere_, to frequent or besiege. Obsession can consume a person, can overwhelm, can haunt…just like an enemy that crowds in with hostility and relentlessness. That's what obsession can do. Completely take control of a person's thoughts and actions."

Ian glanced at Savage. "Thank you, Mr. Etymology." With a conniving smile, he turned back to Ciara. "As our linguistics expert has just pointed out, obsession is a very powerful thing, Ms. McNeil. But then again, you already know that…don't you?"

Ciara's eyes fell momentarily down to the table before she took a deep breath and shook her head dubiously. "What, you have a stack like this on all of us?"

Ian laughed. "No, no, of course not. Don't you think Ben ever talked about you during our work together?" It wasn't a complete lie. Ben hardly spoke of her, but when he did, there was so much contempt in his tone that Ian couldn't help but be intrigued.

"Oh, I'm sure," Ciara remarked sarcastically.

"Believe what you want," Ian said nonchalantly, taking a quick glance at his watch. "It's getting late. I have to call Ben soon with his instructions. Sav, are you feeling like playing chauffeur today? If I send you to the airport to get Gates, can I trust you to bring him back here and not drive him off a cliff instead?"

Savage considered the request. "Probably not."

Ian sighed, ignoring the comment. "You're going to get him anyway. He hasn't seen you since high school, and with a hat and some dark glasses, you'll stay well-disguised until you get back here."

"Why not send the kid?" Savage asked. "Gates has never seen him before."

Ian looked at Dex, then back at Savage. Truthfully, he didn't have much confidence in the kid yet, but he couldn't exactly say that out loud. Dex knew technology, computers, surveillance. Ian trusted him with that. But at this point, that was about all he trusted him with.

"Because," Ian replied, knowing he had two sets of eyes staring straight at him. "I need Dex here to help us get Ben's room ready. We can't have him getting homesick and attempting to try to escape, now can we? He might as well know how it feels to be imprisoned, so to speak."

"Fine," Savage said with a deep sigh. "I'll get him."

Ian glanced over at Dex, who was typing away on the laptop he had just set up on the table. "Are you checking flight status?"

"Uh huh," Dex confirmed, quickly scrolling down a page of incoming flights. "Looks like everything is still on schedule."

Ian nodded. "Ok then. Ben's plane is scheduled to land at 7:48 p.m. Wait for him at Gate C23 and make sure he goes straight to baggage claim. Follow him down and after he picks up his bags, pull him aside and let him know you'll be escorting him to see some old friends. Before you leave the airport, make sure you get his cell phone and dispose of it. Oh, and make sure you check his ears."

Savage arched an eyebrow. "His ears?"

"For listening devices," Ian replied. "Just in case he was dumb enough to tell that little twerp of a sidekick and they actually think they'll outsmart us."

"Twerp?" Ciara asked.

"I'm getting to that," Ian said. "And just to be on the safe side, why don't you blindfold him for the ride back. He doesn't really need to know where he's going."

Savage nodded. "Anything else?"

"Not in regard to that." Ian pulled out a smaller pile of pictures from a beat-up green folder and selected two, then placed them in the middle of the table. "Take a good look at these two. I'm anticipating some interference, or at least attempted interference, once they realize Ben isn't coming home."

"Who are they?" Dex asked.

"Riley Poole," Ian said, pointing at the photograph of Riley. He glanced at Ciara. "The twerp."

"He looks pretty innocuous," Savage commented.

"Looks can be deceiving," Ian said. "He's unbelievably irritating, and somewhat lacking in common sense. But like our boy Dex here, Riley's highly skilled in the area of technology, a regular whiz at just about anything related to a computer. We can't give him even the slightest idea of Ben's whereabouts, or he'll have him tracked and be at our doorstep in about ten seconds. The other factor about Mr. Poole is his unwavering devotion to Gates. We'll have to be careful about him."

"Who's this girl?" Ciara asked, eyeing the picture of Abigail with a hint of jealousy.

"Ah, Dr. Abigail Chase," Ian replied. "Strong-willed, feisty, mouth runs a mile a minute. I can assure you, it will be very challenging to convince her of Ben's disappearance. It must be done though, or like Riley, she'll be doing everything in her power to track him down."

"Is this his girlfriend?" Ciara inquired, seemingly ignoring everything else he had said.

"Yeah," Ian answered. "Actually, he _thinks_ she's about to become his fiancé. Such a pity…he spent so much money on that ring."

"Are you kidding?" Ciara exclaimed, laughing in disbelief. "Ben Gates wants to get _married_? I don't believe that for one second! He wouldn't be able to settle down if he was forcibly sedated and injected with a high dose of Valium."

Ian snickered at Ciara's obvious jealousy. "Love can do strange things to people."

Ciara threw an icy glance in Ian's direction and settled back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest. "She doesn't look like anything special."

"Don't worry, Ciara, you'll have plenty of time to talk with your ex about what makes her so special," Ian said mockingly. "I'm sure he'll be more than willing to explain. It's hard to believe, but Gates actually wasn't very interested in joining us here until I gave him a little motivation…it seems Dr. Chase is our old chap's greatest weakness. And we will certainly use that to our advantage."

Savage glanced down at his watch. "Looks like it's about time for me to take a ride to the airport."

The other three smiled and Ian chuckled to himself with satisfaction. "I believe it is."

...

"Ben!" Abigail called, swiftly making her way from the study to the front entryway where Ben was gathering up his bags. "Don't forget these."

Ben looked over his shoulder to see her rushing toward him, waving a stack of papers. "What's that?" He asked.

Abigail handed the stack to him. "Your presentation notes," she said, then slipped a glasses case into his shirt pocket. "And your reading glasses."

Ben smiled. "Thanks, honey."

"I'm just gonna run upstairs and make sure you didn't forget anything else," she told him and turned to go upstairs.

"No," Ben said adamantly, grabbing her arm before she could get too far. She looked at him quizzically at first, but understood as he gently pulled her back to him and wrapped his arms around her waist. "My cab's gonna be here any minute. I just want to hold you until then."

Abigail smiled, wrapping her own arms tightly around him and laying her head on his shoulder. Ben sighed, closing his eyes as he memorized the moment; the scent of her hair, the feel of her fingertips lightly trailing up and down his back, her warm breath against his neck.

"I love you, you know that right?" Ben whispered, knowing if he spoke any louder, his voice would have been likely to crack with all the emotion he was trying to hold back.

Abigail lifted her head and kissed his cheek. "Of course I know that," she assured him. "And I love you too."

Ben let out a deep breath that he'd been holding and gently cupped her face in his hands. He gazed deeply into honest, alluring blue eyes that could hold his heart captive with just one glance. She meant everything to him.

After a couple minutes of standing in this position, Abigail giggled softly. "What _are_ you doing, Ben?"

"Just looking at you," he told her, stating the obvious. "You're beautiful."

She blushed slightly under his intense gaze and felt a sudden rush of warmth surge through her entire body. "Benjamin Gates…I don't know how you do that to me," she whispered.

"Do what?" He asked.

"Make me feel this way," she said, seemingly struggling for a way to describe it. "Like I'm the only woman in the world…"

"You are," Ben said, smiling warmly at her. "To me at least."

She sighed happily, and returned his smile. "Are you gonna kiss me yet?"

"You know it," he replied, leaning down to capture her lips with his own. They easily got lost in the moment and in each other. Ben savored every little sensation, knowing it could be a very long time before he would feel this again.

A loud, persistent blaring horn finally broke their kiss, both of them groaning at the untimely interruption. Ben rested his forehead against Abigail's and looked into her eyes again as the couple tried to catch their breath.

"That's my ride," Ben said softly.

"I know."

"I love you."

"I love you too," she replied. "Call me when you get there, ok?"

"I will," he promised.

Reluctantly, he let her go and picked up his two bags, one to check and one carry-on. He stole one more quick kiss from Abby before he walked out the door and met the cab driver at the trunk of the car. He tossed his bags inside, and got into the cab. As they started driving further away from his home, an overwhelming sense of dread came over him. What the hell had he gotten himself into?

Ben leaned his head against the window, staring mindlessly at the scenery as it passed by. They had been driving for about fifteen minutes when he suddenly felt his phone vibrating in his pocket. Rolling his eyes to himself, he pulled out the phone and didn't even bother checking the screen to see who it was. He just flipped it open and answered it.

"Ian," he stated with no feeling whatsoever.

"How'd you guess?" Ian replied with that annoying mocking laughter.

"What now?"

"I'm just calling to let you know that I have sent someone to retrieve you from the airport," Ian explained. "Make sure you follow his instructions."

"Aw, Ian, I'm disappointed," Ben said sarcastically. "I was looking forward to being greeted at the airport by you. How am I going to recognize this person?"

Ian laughed. "Don't worry, Ben. He'll make it very clear."

"You are one sick, sick man, ya know that?"

"I've been called worse," Ian remarked.

"Is there anything else?" Ben asked impatiently. "Your voice is starting to nauseate me."

"That'll be all for now."

"Goodbye," Ben said coldly.

"I'm so excited about our little reunion," Ian quickly added before Ben had a chance to hang up. "I bet you can't wait either."

"Yeah, I can't wait until it's over," Ben muttered.

"And with your cooperation, it will be over before you know it," Ian assured him, his voice trailing off momentarily. "Yes, it will _all_ be over for you soon."


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N Thank you all for your reviews and encouragement! And I promise we are getting to more action from Riley...I know a lot of your are big Riley fans! Hope you enjoy this chapter. **

* * *

The plane ride to Chicago went off without a hitch. No usual boarding delays, no sitting forever on the tarmac to finish fueling or wait in line to take-off, no unnecessary scenes caused by individuals who hadn't flown in the last ten years complaining about not getting free peanuts anymore. Even just taking a quick glance around the plane, Ben noticed there weren't even the stereotypical bratty five-year-olds who can't keep their hands to themselves and can't stop moving around, which always made the flight seem about ten times longer than it actually was. It was almost as though this flight couldn't wait to deliver Ben into the hands of the enemy.

Ben couldn't help but chuckle ironically to himself when the pilot came over the loudspeaker with instructions to fasten safety belts as they began descent, about fifteen minutes earlier than scheduled.

"Someone must be anxious to get this party started," Ben muttered, clicking the belt into its buckle. He sighed heavily, but realized for the first time in the last couple days, he felt unnaturally calm. Taking advantage of the moment of tranquility, he leaned back against the seat and closed his eyes, wondering to himself if he might just suddenly wake up from this nightmare, his beautiful Abigail soundly sleeping beside him, his best friend Riley furiously typing at his keyboard downstairs, and Ian still locked away in a prison cell with zero ability to interfere in Ben's life.

The wheels abruptly touched down on the runway, causing Ben's head to jerk forward and slam into the back of the seat in front of him. Rubbing his forehead to ease the sudden pain, reality set in. This was no dream.

Walking through the enclosed boarding tunnel felt like the march of doom to Ben. As he stepped into the airport, hundreds of people were bustling around in all directions; business men literally running down the corridors to catch a connecting flight, parents holding tightly to their children so as not to lose them in this chaos, the predictable enraged passenger yelling at a customer service representative about every little thing that she was disappointed with on the flight-an attempt to earn herself a free ticket for a later trip. As Ben's eyes roamed the scene before him, it was an absolute whirlwind of confusion. At least his mind felt at home now.

A young man who happened to be running down the hall, dodging his way in, out, and around other people, was flying full speed toward Ben. He took a look over his shoulder behind him, and as his head turned back to face forward, his shoulder slammed hard into Ben's, knocking him backwards a few steps and causing him to drop the carry-on bag in his hand.

"Sorry, man," The guy said, leaning down to pick up Ben's bag and shove it into Ben's hands hurriedly. "I'm gonna miss my flight."

Ben didn't even have a chance to respond before the guy had disappeared down the hall again. As he readjusted his bag on his shoulder, he suddenly had the feeling that he was being watched. His eyes scanned the waiting area at his gate, but no one seemed to be looking at him. _Great, Ben. Paranoid already._

_..._

Meanwhile, Savage sat calmly in a chair in the corner, guised by a newspaper that he held just up to his eyes so he could appear busy but still keep his eye on Ben. A rush of pure adrenaline surged through him as soon as he saw Ben walk through the gate. He wasn't sure he'd recognize him after all the time that had passed, but he was just an older version of that scared, pathetic little teenaged boy who single-handedly took away twenty years of his life. Stronger, perhaps. A bit taller. Otherwise, it appeared that he was the same old Ben Gates. Savage could hardly contain his excitement over the prospect of finally getting the revenge he so often thought about as he lay on the hard bunk in his prison cell.

As he watched Ben walk off in the direction of baggage claim, he tossed the paper on a small table beside his chair, and followed a safe distance behind. He rode the escalator down, making sure not to lose Ben amid the sea of people, and watched as Ben stopped before one of the conveyor belts, waiting for it to start pushing out luggage.

Savage walked to where he was just a couple feet behind Ben and waited.

Another ten minutes went by before the belt even began moving and people began grabbing at suitcases, checking to see if it was theirs, running around to the other side to see if they missed theirs, but Ben stayed put, just patiently waiting.

_Calm, cool and collected Benjamin Gates_, Savage thought. _It will be fun to see you finally panic._

Ben grabbed his bag as it passed by on the conveyor belt, and as he turned around, he was startled by the figure that was standing almost directly behind him. One more step and he would have run into him for sure.

"Excuse me," Ben said, trying to step around the man.

"Gates," he said.

Ben froze. He looked more carefully at the man standing before him now. He appeared to be older than Ben, strands of silver hair peeking out from underneath a black fedora. He was wearing dark sunglasses, evidently adding to the mysterious nature of whoever Ian sent for Ben. Though Ben couldn't see his eyes, he guessed that they probably had the same stoic appearance as the rest of his face.

"Yeah?" Ben replied.

"I'm here to escort you to your destination," Savage told him.

"Oh," Ben said flatly. "You're the driver Ian referred to."

_The driver,_ Savage thought. He suddenly felt a twinge of irritation as he considered Ian's reduction of his role to 'driver.' Ryker Savage was not just the chauffeur, and now he'd have to make sure that both Gates _and_ Howe knew it.

Controlling the urge to grab Ben by the neck and reveal his identity right at that moment, Savage simply nodded and told Ben to follow him.

As Savage turned and began leading the way, Ben was bothered by the fact that something about him seemed eerily familiar. He had a very confident, brisk but steady walk and was obviously very self-assured. Ben could tell that just by the way he spoke and carried himself.

They had only walked for about a minute before Savage abruptly stopped and turned to face Ben.

"May I see your phone?" He asked.

Ben frowned. "Why?"

Savage didn't answer him; he simply held out his hand and waited for Ben to hand it over.

"I'd rather hang onto it myself," Ben tried.

Savage's lips curved up slightly, but he tried to hide the smile. After all these years, Ben still didn't know when to shut up and do as he was told. Yes, this would certainly be fun indeed.

The two men stared at each other for a few more seconds, before Savage finally opened his jacket slightly, but clearly enough to reveal a shiny black handgun.

"Care to reconsider?" He asked Ben.

Ben gasped in disbelief. "How did you get in here with _that_?!" The idea that someone could stroll into an airport wielding a gun in this day and age was absolutely incomprehensible to Ben.

Savage didn't answer him, but easily grabbed the phone out of a very distracted Ben's hand. "Thank you."

This time, Ben didn't object. As he turned and began walking again, Ben continued to follow, nagged by the fact that something about that last exchange made that man seem even more familiar.

As they passed by a large trash receptacle on the way out of the airport, Savage casually dropped Ben's phone inside, causing it to make a loud clanging sound as it hit the bottom. Ben looked at the trash can as he passed by and sighed. There went his last lifeline.

Savage walked Ben to a black Lincoln Town Car with dark tinted windows, and ordered Ben to throw his bags in the trunk after he opened it.

Ben couldn't help but notice the odd collection of items inside the trunk. A coiled rope. Two shovels. A pair of handcuffs. Three neckties. A shoebox full of photographs, no lid on the box. A pile of books about ancient languages. Ben eyed Savage suspiciously out of the corner of his eye as he placed his bags inside.

"Get in," Savage instructed.

Ben looked at him in disbelief. "The trunk?"

Savage sighed impatiently. "No, you idiot. Get in the back!"

A chill swept over Ben's entire body as the man raised his voice and yelled his instruction. That voice…that tone…Ben felt sure he'd heard it before.

Without a word, Ben walked to the driver's side and climbed inside the back seat. He immediately noticed the easily recognizable scent of new car. He scanned the inside of the car, looking for any sort of paperwork or receipts or anything else that might identify the mystery man with the creepy items in his trunk. No such luck. The new car was immaculate.

"Looking for something?" Savage asked, startling Ben who was reaching below the passenger's seat to see if there was anything stashed there.

Ben looked up and tried to think of a good excuse, but got distracted as he noticed the handcuffs in Savage's left hand. He looked at them, then back up at Savage, who was now smiling sinisterly.

"You've got to be kidding," Ben remarked.

"Don't blame me," Savage told him, roughly grabbing his wrist and slapping one of the cuffs on. He pulled the short chain through the arm rest on the door, then grabbed Ben's other wrist and secured it. "I'm just the _driver_," he added. _For now_, he thought to himself.

Ben arched his eyebrows at him. "Ian thought _this_ was necessary?"

"And this," Savage said, holding up a black handkerchief.

Ben actually wasn't surprised to feel the dark material covering his eyes. Ian knew him well enough to know that if Ben knew where he was, and could somehow relay that information back to the people that cared about Ben, it would cause problems. Fortunately for Ian, he planned ahead, first taking care of his only communication method and now taking care of his ability to see where they were headed.

Ben simply sat back in the seat and sighed heavily, suddenly feeling very tired and very defeated.

Savage started the ignition and within a few seconds, they were on their way. Ben could tell from the incredibly slow pace, along with all the starts and stops and turns that they were still maneuvering around the airport. His mind was racing again; part of him wanted to give up, but the more persistent and stubborn part of him insisted he keep himself in the game.

Almost instinctively, as soon as the car pulled out onto a main road, indicated by the sudden increase in speed, Ben began to count. He couldn't see, but he could feel which direction the car was going, he could feel which way they were turning. This could be the only way he could describe to someone his location, should he ever get that chance. It was worth a shot.

Assuming Mr. Shady up there was driving the speed limit was a fairly safe bet. Ben was sure he wasn't going to take the chance of being pulled over by the police considering he had a man handcuffed and blindfolded in the backseat, was storing an interesting collection of items in the trunk, and was carrying a gun. More than likely, he was playing it safe.

He kept a steady count of seconds, making it to 278 before the car slowed and took a left-hand turn. Ben started his count over, mentally storing each turn and count in his mind. He was sure he'd never been more thankful for a mind that could process and recall so much detailed information than right at that moment.

Another left. Seven seconds. Quick right. Shady turned on the radio. Classical music. Ben immediately recognized Beethoven's Ode to Joy. Ah, the irony. He tried not to let the music distract him as he kept a steady count, though he did think it somewhat odd for his gun-wielding captor to enjoy such peaceful music. Ben figured he must have been fairly cultured.

Another right turn after 406 seconds. Then another 222 seconds. Sharp left. By the angle of the turn, Ben figured there was a good chance there was a fork in the road at that point. This next road was longer. The song changed. Shady started humming along to Mozart's familiar Symphony No. 40. He counted up to 962 before they finally turned right. Another 355 seconds and the car slowed to a gentle roll, and finally came to a stop.

Ben's heart began to pound hard against his chest as he heard the driver's side door open, slam shut, and then Ben's door opened, pulling him roughly in the same direction as his hands were still attached to the armrest. Apparently Shady had forgotten that.

"Alright, get out," Savage said after he'd freed Ben's wrists from the cuffs. He pulled off the blindfold as well and Ben winced at the sudden burst of sunlight shining in his face.

After his eyes adjusted, Ben looked around the outside of the building, trying to make a mental picture of the scenery. The building was two stories, pretty run-down like it had been vacant for years. There actually appeared to be some faded graffiti, most of which Ben couldn't make out, except for one word beneath a first-story front window. Punk.

_Punk?_ Ben thought. Ok then. Store that for later reference.

He followed Savage up the uneven and cracked porch steps and into the apartment building. A musty odor was strong in the front room, confirming Ben's suspicion that the building had been closed for a long time. He wondered how Ian managed to get his hands on it.

In the distance, he could hear the sound of muffled voices, immediately recognizing Ian's British accent. There was another male voice, and Ben thought there was also a female voice. That was something Ben hadn't expected. What kind of woman would be crazy enough to get herself mixed up with Ian Howe?

"We're back," Savaged announced, leading Ben through the kitchen but stopping him before he went down the hall. He turned and instructed Ben to wait there for a minute.

Ben watched Shady disappear into a room on the right, and say something in a quiet tone which was quickly followed by much laughter. A second later, Ian appeared in the doorway and walked over to Ben.

He smiled evilly and extended his hand to Ben. "Welcome, old pal," Ian greeted.

Ben stiffened. Just the sight of his smug face disgusted him. He didn't respond. Nor did he shake Ian's hand.

"I trust your flight was well?" Ian asked.

"It was fine," Ben responded.

"And your ride here? Did your driver treat you well?" Ian chuckled to himself, feigning actual concern for the treatment of Ben.

"Oh it was great," Ben replied sarcastically. "I've always wanted to be blindfolded and cuffed to a car door. Plays right along with my 'Being captured by a bunch of psychos' fantasy."

"Glad I could help," Ian said.

"How about we get to the point of why I'm here?" Ben suggested, growing more and more impatient.

"How about you beginning to realize you don't get to call the shots here?" Ian retorted. "We'll get to that in due time. You might as well just settle in, Benny. This might take awhile."

Ben sighed in aggravation.

"I can't wait for you to meet the team," Ian said, grinning broadly. There was a menacing gleam in his eyes that Ben knew from experience only meant trouble. "But before you do, how about a little warm-up riddle?"

Ben rolled his eyes. "Must we?"

"We must," Ian insisted. "I like to keep you on your toes, Ben. Gotta keep that mind of yours sharp."

Ben toyed with the idea of taking a good, hard swing at Ian's face right at that moment. That would keep him sharp. If there weren't a room full of mystery people ready to come to Ian's rescue, he might have.

"Ready?" Ian asked, trying to prolong the torture.

"Yeah whatever," Ben muttered.

Ian cleared his throat dramatically and began to recite from memory.

"It's yesterday but not today  
And today it will be tomorrow  
Has power to predict  
Yet can only tell facts  
Evokes joy but also sorrow  
Some try to run from it  
Some cling for dear life  
Some use it as their guide  
Though time increases its distance  
From your own you can never hide"

Ben smiled at the poetic rhythm of Ian's riddle. "Did you come up with that all by yourself?" He mocked.

"As a matter of fact, I did," Ian replied proudly.

"I thought so," Ben said. "It's not very difficult. If you're concerned about keeping my mind sharp, you're gonna have to get a little more creative."

Ian scowled at Ben and his eyes narrowed. "What's the answer then, smart guy?" As he waited for Ben to respond, he started walking toward the room that he originally came from. Ben followed along but Ian stopped him right in the doorway.

"The answer?" Ian asked again.

"Simple," Ben replied. "The answer is, the past. Yesterday happened already, which makes it the past, and today will be tomorrow's past. Everyone knows the past is a great indicator of what _could_ happen in the future, but it can only tell us for certain what has already happened. Depending on what's happened in your own past, it can bring feelings of joy or sorrow, and as more time goes by the past becomes more and more distant."

Ian snickered. "Well explained. It certainly is hard to stump the great Ben Gates, isn't it?" He moved inside the room and Ben followed, still considering the riddle and its relevance.

"And of course," Ben continued, "you can't hide from your past, no matter how hard you try."

Ian continued laughing and as he stepped to the side of Ben, Ben looked up. The reaction was immediate. Jaw dropped to the floor. Nausea overcame him. Pulse quickened. Hands began to shake. A mix of rage, shock, fear and disgust filled his senses. The bags he had previously been holding dropped to the floor with a thud. He could hardly breathe as he stared in disbelief at the cast of characters seated before him.

Ian leaned toward Ben, close to his ear. "You can't hide from yours either."


	10. Chapter 10

"The past," Ian continued, circling around Ben to his right side. "It can never be changed, never be forgotten, never be erased." He paused, chuckling evilly. "The past can come back and really bite you in the ass."

Ben stood motionless, his eyes shifting from one nightmare to the next, as all three gathered around the table stared intently back. He didn't recognize the youngest one, but he had more than enough to be concerned about with the other two. Ben could literally feel the blood draining from his face as the staring contest continued. He had no words, no thoughts. He felt numb. The past had just caught him off guard and smacked him square in the face.

"What's the matter, Ben?" Ian scoffed. "You look like you've just seen a ghost."

The emotions kept coming, flooding Ben's mind as he stood still, his legs feeling so heavy he was sure he couldn't move them. An old flame. A former teacher. Two people he definitely never wanted to see again. A onetime treasure-hunting partner that proved even Ben Gates was capable of a serious lapse in judgment. And after what he put the treasure-hunting trio through, Ben didn't want to see him ever again either. As for the younger one, though Ben couldn't identify him, judging from the rest of the lineup, he assumed he wouldn't be thrilled about whoever the youth was either.

"Why don't you take a seat at the table, Ben," Ian coaxed, resuming his own place with his new friends.

Ben's eyes locked with those of his former high school history teacher. Savage had aged, gone gray faster than Ben would have expected. Perhaps that's what twenty years in prison did to a man. A guilty man. His eyes were still glacial, maybe even more hardened, more insensitive than before. Remorseless. Calloused. He was the same monster. Ben suddenly felt like he was 15 years old again, standing helpless in the doorway of his classroom, crushingly devastated, shocked and afraid…caught in a situation he didn't want to be a part of. The same staggering urge to vomit was present now as he stood before this lowlife creep again, twenty-three years later.

Trying to maintain control of his stomach, his gaze shifted to his ex-girlfriend. A relationship, if you could call it that, which Ben always considered one of his biggest mistakes. She took him for ride that he didn't realize he wanted off of until it was too late. He shuddered as he recalled the bitter ending. She was still beautiful, though. The perfect poster-child for the expression, 'Don't judge a book by its cover.' He was the first to admit he'd been fooled. Under that guise of exquisite beauty and sophistication was a devious, conniving, self-serving vixen. Her cold eyes bore straight through him, right to his core. His mind suddenly flashed to Abigail. She had the power to do that with her gaze as well—but it was far different. With just a look, Ben always felt Abby could see straight into his soul, but with eyes filled with love, honesty, devotion. Ciara's stare was icy, hard, vengeful, loathing. She had always been tough. Apparently the years had only made her more tenacious. Perhaps more dangerous.

"Come on Ben," Ian insisted. "Join us at the table so we can get to work."

"No," Ben finally spoke. He pointed at Savage and Ciara. "I don't want anywhere near these two…sick maniacs."

Savage laughed, thoroughly enjoying seeing Ben in a position of vulnerability, his emotions completely exposing his weakness. "It's good to see you too, Ben."

Ben threw an irate glance at Savage, but found himself too disgusted to even come back with an insult.

Ian stood up from the table, his sudden movement causing Ben to turn back to face him.

"Ben-" Ian started.

"Forget it!" Ben exclaimed. "I'm not staying here with a bunch of psychopaths." He looked over at Dex, who was staring at Ben in confusion. "And whoever you are, you ought to get out while you still can. Deals off, Ian. I'm out."

Ben turned and stormed out of the room. Savage got up to chase him down, but Ian held up his hand, gesturing for him to sit back down. Ian smiled cleverly, letting Ben get almost to the front door before deciding to say anything.

"Oh Ben," Ian called in a sing-song tone. "I know you've only been gone a few hours, but maybe you're interested in seeing what your girlfriend's up to right now?"

...

Riley stood on Ben and Abigail's porch, pacing back and forth a couple times as he tried to figure out a good excuse for why he was dropping by that evening. He thought the drive over would give him sufficient time to come up with something clever, but now as he stood at his destination, he decided he should have driven around the block a few more times.

"This is stupid," Riley muttered to himself. "Abby's my friend. I don't need an excuse to come visit. Why would she find it weird anyway…I'm here all the time." Riley pushed the doorbell and could faintly hear the first few bars of the Star Spangled Banner. "Only Ben…" he remarked, shaking his head in disbelief.

Several seconds later, the front door swung open, and Abigail appeared in the doorway. At first she looked at him in suspiciously, but gestured for him to come in.

"Hi Riley," she said. "Everything ok?"

"Yeah," he replied. "Did you know your doorbell plays the national anthem?"

Abigail rolled her eyes. "Don't ask me where he found that," she expressed, making sure he knew it was not her idea. "It can get pretty annoying, but he was so excited about it I didn't have the heart to tell him not to have it installed."

Riley laughed. "The things Ben gets excited about."

"I've been telling him for awhile that it's a little much," she explained, giggling as she led Riley into the living room. "He finally got an idea of what I was talking about a couple weekends ago. You want something to drink?"

"Sure," Riley replied, relieved that she was too busy thinking about her doorbell story to be suspicious of why he was there.

"Lemonade ok?" She asked, disappearing into the kitchen.

"Yeah, whatever you got," Riley answered, making himself comfortable as he stretched out on the couch.

Abigail walked back into the room with two glasses, and handed one to Riley. She sat down in one of the recliners and set her own glass on the end table. "A couple weeks ago we were visited by some girl scouts, selling cookies."

"Mmm, cookies," Riley remarked. "What'd you order? Thin mints? Tagalongs? Caramel Dee-lights?"

Abigail looked at him curiously. "I see you know your girl scout cookies."

"Duh," he said. "_Everyone_ knows girl scout cookies. Soooo, what did you order for Riley?"

Abby shook her head. "I have no idea. You'll have to ask Ben…he filled out the order form."

"Nooooooo!" Riley exclaimed dramatically. "Ben is a shortbread kind of guy! There's no way he ordered anything adventurous and exciting."

Abigail laughed. "I don't know, Riley. Maybe he'll surprise you. Ben _does_ have an adventurous side, you know."

Riley's eyes narrowed as he studied the silly grin on Abigail's face. He wasn't sure he liked the implications of that statement and didn't think he wanted to pry any further to find out.

"The treasure hunts!" Abigail declared, blushing slightly as she noticed the suspicious look on Riley's face. "Wouldn't you call those adventurous?"

"Hmm," Riley considered. "That's what you were talking about. Sure…"

"Anyway," Abigail said, deciding it was time to change the subject. "The girl scouts came to the door, rang the doorbell, and when Ben got up to answer it, the girls were hysterically laughing on the porch. Ben, being Ben, of course had to explain to these two ten-year-olds that the national anthem was nothing to be laughing at, and then started giving them a history lesson on Francis Scott Key. At this point, from the kitchen I could hear Ben instructing someone at the door, so I went to see who he was torturing, and discovered the cute little girls in their uniforms, wide-eyed and just staring at Ben, apparently waiting for him to take a breath so they could ask him if he wanted to buy some cookies. I told Ben that the girls probably had a lot more stops to make before it got dark outside, which is when I told him to order some cookies from them and let them be on their way."

Riley took a sip from his lemonade, laughing as he imagined Ben telling those girls not to laugh at his doorbell. "That's pretty funny, Abby. Ben never told me about that."

"Oh wait, it gets better," she said. "A few seconds after he closes the door, the doorbell rings again. The song gets to the end of the first line, and then it rings again, starting the song all over again. This must have happened about ten times before Ben got annoyed enough to stomp through the hall and swing open the door, only to find the giggling girls racing down the driveway. So he slammed the door closed, which caused the 'see' part of 'oh say can you see' to get stuck and that note just kept buzzing through the house. I told him to call you to come and fix it, but he insisted he could do it himself. I think he really just didn't want any more grief over his doorbell, which I'm sure you would have given him."

Riley nodded. "No doubt!"

Abigail continued her story, giggling as she recalled it. "So he finally gets it fixed, comes back inside, and by now he's all worked up so I sent him to his study to go relax for awhile. Maybe an hour later, the doorbell rings again. Ben comes out of his study, muttering under his breath about how it better not be those girl scouts again, and swings open the front door."

"The girl scouts?" Riley asked.

"Nope," Abby said. "Two boys, dressed in their little league uniforms selling candy bars. They both had taken off their hats and placed them over their hearts, and were dramatically singing with the doorbell. Ben tried to be calm with them, but I could tell he was fuming. He just bought a couple candy bars and sent them on their way. He came back into the kitchen, scratching his head in confusion, and asked me if I thought we should get a different doorbell."

Riley shook his head in disbelief. "Ben, Ben, Ben… He must have been an interesting boy growing up, don't you think?"

Abigail laughed, agreeing with Riley.

"So," she said after a couple minutes, realizing the doorbell had sidetracked her from her initial surprise upon seeing Riley at the door. "Did you come over here for any particular reason?"

"Huh?" Riley asked, somewhat forgetting why he'd come over in the first place. _Check on Abby, oh yeah…_

"Ben's not here this weekend, you know."

Riley nodded. "Yeah, I know. I was just, um…driving around, and I was in the neighborhood, so I thought I'd drop in and say hi to my good friend Abigail." That sounded good, right? Riley was pleased with his explanation.

Abigail sighed, arching an eyebrow suspiciously. "Ben told you to check up on me, didn't he?"

"What!?" Riley exclaimed defensively. "Ben? Ben would never do something like that! I mean, he wouldn't unless he had your permission of course—"

"Oh shut up, Riley," Abigail said playfully, amused by Riley's attempts at covering for Ben. She stood up and took hers and Riley's glasses out to the kitchen. "You know Ben as well as I do."

"Well, probably better, actually," Riley interjected.

Abby appeared back in the doorframe, hands on her hips. "Oh you think so?"

"Er, um," he stumbled. "Well, I mean, come on Abs, I've known him longer. It only makes sense that I know him better."

She began tapping her foot in that impatient, aggravated way that Ben sometimes referred to. If Riley recalled correctly, Ben also noted the tapping foot was like a time bomb, just waiting for the precise moment to explode. Ben said he'd become pretty good at diffusing the bomb. _Diffuse the bomb, Riley_.

"Ah, ok," Riley said. "Well, I guess you do know him in certain respects better than I do. So…let's call it a tie."

Abigail smiled, and the tapping stopped. Bomb diffused! "So, why's he having you check up on me?"

Ben was right. It was scary when 'So' came out of her mouth! _Well_, Riley thought to himself, _Ben said you seemed 'off' lately. So I'm here to make sure you aren't doing anything crazy_. Hmm…don't think that would score Ben, or Riley, too many points with the blonde.

"Umm," Riley began, not quite sure how to respond without getting Ben into some hot water. "I guess…he…well you know Ben—"

"As well as you, we've already established that, Riley."

"Why are you asking me then? If you know him so well, then you know why he wanted me to check up on you!"

"Riley," Abigail stated seriously.

"Look, I don't know, ok?" Riley admitted. "He just seemed edgy and preoccupied by this conference, and he just asked me if I would stop by a couple times to make sure everything was ok with you. Now really, is that so awful?"

Abigail's eyes softened. "No, it's not awful at all," she said. "But how many times _before_ this weekend has he asked you to drop in on me when he was only going to be gone a couple days?"

Riley rubbed the back of his neck as he tried to recall a time that Ben had asked him to check on Abigail. She definitely had a point. He looked her in the eyes and could tell she was worried. "I see what you're getting at."

Abigail nodded. "So he seemed strange to you before he left, too?"

"Just more nervous than usual," Riley explained. "Was there something different about this conference?"

"I don't know," she said, letting out a deep breath. "I just hope he calls soon."

...

Ben froze in his tracks, his hand paused on the doorknob of the front door. The surveillance. Ben didn't think that was an issue now that Ian had him where he wanted him, after all, he had said…Ben rolled his eyes. Did it really matter what he said? It was all about control with Ian. He said what he needed to in order to get Ben to cooperate. Truth, lies, it didn't matter with Ian. As long as he got his way. Slowly Ben let go of the doorknob, and turned around. Now that he knew who he was dealing with, he definitely wouldn't be taking any chances with Abigail.

A few seconds later, Ben appeared in the doorway of the meeting room. Ian smiled at him.

"I thought that might entice you," he remarked.

"You said that was temporary!" Ben blurted out angrily.

Ian shrugged, pretending he didn't know what Ben was talking about. "Did I?"

Ben suddenly rushed forward in a rage, lunging at Ian and managing to grab hold of his neck. As Ian gasped for breath, Ben pushed him against the wall and held him there. "You _are_ going to leave her alone!" He ordered.

Ben was so focused on Ian that he didn't notice that Savage had calmly stood up and walked around the table behind Ben. Savage caught Ben off guard, grabbing him forcefully by the back of his shirt and pulling him away from Ian.

"Better settle down, tough guy," Savage remarked, pushing Ben against the wall. "Out there you may be everyone's favorite treasure hunter; the noble, well-renowned, protector of the common good, Ben Gates." He paused, snickering to himself as he noticed the fear and disgust in Ben's eyes; he had seen that look before, many years ago. _Ah, Ben…if you had only minded your own business…_ "But in here, you're nothing but a meddling, egocentric, duplicitous interloper. In our little society of five here, four of us can't stand the sight of you. Do you realize what that means? No one here is on your side. You have no one in your corner, so I suggest you better get control of your emotional outbursts, understand?" Savage slammed Ben's head against the wall, causing him to cough and wince in pain.

"Don't…touch me…again," Ben demanded in between coughs.

Savage chuckled at Ben's weakness, and deliberately patted him on the cheek. "I don't think you're in any position to be giving out orders." He returned calmly to his seat, while Ben stood against the wall, working on catching his breath.

Ian made his way back to the table as well, glaring loathingly at Ben. "Sit down," he ordered in a no-nonsense tone. "You'd be wise to resign yourself to the fact that you _are_ going to be part of this team—whether it's through cooperation or by force. That part is up to you. That's about the only thing that's up to you."

Reluctantly, Ben took a few steps toward the table and the four watched him as he finally took his seat. He felt an uncomfortable tension forming in every muscle. His joints tightened and his hands clenched into fists, his jaw clamped shut. He tried his best to avert his eyes from the eight that were currently fixated on him.

"Very good, Ben," Ian continued. "You're beginning to understand who's in charge. Now if you play nice, and do as you're told, there _might_ be a chance you'll get to return to your absurdly boring life and put that ring on your girlfriend's finger afterall."

Ben could feel the resentful stare of his former girlfriend, and as he glanced in her direction, the bitterness and jealousy was apparent. Ben quickly looked away, not wanting to feel even the slightest hint of sympathy toward her. When they were together, she had made it abundantly clear that she wanted to marry him. But Ben was still young, his primary focus was finding the Templar treasure, and honestly, he didn't see himself settling down…ever. And he made that perfectly clear to her. It wasn't until that relationship was well on its way to ruin that Ben understood her real motive for wanting to marry him. And he didn't want any part of it.

"Never going to get married," Ciara mumbled under her breath, her eyes fixed on her former boyfriend with scathing hatred.

_Don't react, Ben. She wants a reaction…you know her. _Ben took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. He looked back at Ian, noticing that he was now holding an envelope, his fingers tapping lightly against it as he smiled knowingly at Ben.

Ben's curiosity was getting the best of him. Were the contents of the envelope what he was summoned here to assist with? He sighed, finally accepting the fact that his only way out of this nightmare was to do what they wanted and get it overwith.

"Alright, I'm here and I'm listening," Ben told Ian. "Now, what do you want with me?"


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N Thank you thank you thank you for your reviews!! Here is the next part. And the part after that should be arriving soon since I wrote most of it already. Just needs some finishing touches. Riley needs to get some rest before he starts putting two and two...and two and two together.**

"What do we want with you?" Ian repeated Ben's question, looking around at the others as they quietly snickered to themselves. There was a loaded question if one had ever been asked. Ian took a pile of papers out of the envelope and tossed them to Ben. "Know what these are?"

Ben looked down and quickly thumbed through the papers. He immediately recognized them, and looked back up at Ian with a nod. "These are the Beale ciphers."

"The what?" Savage and Ciara said simultaneously.

Ben didn't want to look at either of them, so he didn't offer any further explanation. He knew that Ian didn't need one. Instead, he kept his focus on Ian's up-to-something smirk and Ben frowned in confusion. He rested the papers on the table and shrugged his shoulders.

"Ok, so?" Ben asked. "The general consensus among the experts is that the Beale ciphers and the treasure it supposedly leads to is a big hoax."

Ian stroked his chin thoughtfully as he considered Ben's words. "Wasn't the _general consensus_ regarding the Templar Treasure that it was a big hoax as well?"

Ben shook his head. "That was different."

"Not really, Ben," Ian replied. "Buried treasure, clues to follow, ciphers to crack. Seems pretty much the same to me."

Ben sighed exasperatedly, picking up the papers and shaking them at Ian. "No one can crack these codes-there's no indication of what documents were used to create the cipher to begin with." He paused, trying to think of a way for this group of clowns to understand what he was saying. "It would be like…walking into a library filled with every book, magazine, pamphlet and every other document ever published and going through each of them one by one. It's impossible!"

Ian raised his eyebrows and smirked at Ben. "Impossible? Now there's a word I never expected to hear out of the mouth of Benjamin Gates."

"I'm being realistic."

"Tell me then," Ian began, staring intently at Ben. "If these codes are truly a hoax, and there is no treasure—"

"Then what the hell are we doing here?" Savage suddenly piped up.

"Shut up!" Ian ordered, throwing an angry glance at Savage for interrupting his progress with Ben.

Savage met Ian's heated glance with one of his own, slowly cracking each of his knuckles to release some of the sudden tension he was feeling. Ian Howe was truly beginning to grate on Savage and he was beginning to wonder if he'd have the necessary patience to wait until he could deal with both Gates and Howe.

Ciara rolled her eyes and tapped her long, perfectly manicured blood-red fingernails on the table. "The testosterone in this room is becoming a bit stifling," she remarked. "You boys want to get on with it?"

Ian returned his attention to Ben, and tried to recall what point he was trying to make before Savage threw in his two cents.

"As I was saying," Ian continued. "If these codes truly are a hoax, how is it that one of them _has_ been solved?"

Ben laughed. "And did you happen to notice which of the three was solved? The one that explains that there's this 30 million dollar treasure and the general location of it. That's so complete idiots like yourself actually take the bait and waste absurd amounts of time searching for something that doesn't exist."

"Really, Ben, this attitude of yours is surprising to me," Ian observed. "For a man once _obsessed_ with finding the Templar treasure…"

"Priorities change," Ben commented. "And besides, I had personal reasons for devoting so much time to finding that treasure. That was for my family. I don't have any reason for going on any other treasure hunts."

Ian laughed loudly, then leaned as far as he could across the table, locking an intent gaze on Ben. "You need a reason? How's this? If you don't cooperate with us, we'll be happy to round up those individuals you love so dearly, namely your beloved Dr. Chase, your best friend Riley, and your loving and supportive parents. We'll bring them here and let you watch as we pick them off, one by one. Is that a good enough reason _Ben_?"

Ben was fuming on the inside, but did his best to remain calm. The less these people saw him get worked up, the better it would be for him. He couldn't let them know that they were getting to him, or his emotions would be used against him constantly.

"I'm telling you right now, Ian," Ben started. "You are not going to solve these codes."

"Oh, I know that," Ian replied, chuckling to himself. "You probably remember how terrible I am at solving these things. _You're_ going to crack them."

Ben shook his head. Was he not making himself clear enough? "Listen. The world's most gifted cryptanalysts have studied these for years and have come up with absolutely nothing. What makes you think I'll be able to?"

"You're Ben Gates," Ian said, as though that was all the explanation that was necessary. He looked around the table. "And between our respective talents, we can find this treasure."

Ben rubbed his forehead in confusion, noticing for the first time the slight throbbing in the back of his head where Savage had slammed him into the wall. He didn't suppose Ian would be offering him any aspirin. With a deep sigh, he nodded his head toward Ciara.

"What sort of talent is she bringing to the table?" He inquired wryly. "Lying? Stealing? Letting others take the fall for her?"

"I'm flattered," Ciara responded nonchalantly. "But don't forget my expertise in…how should I put it? Persuasion by seduction? Even you must admit I'm pretty talented there…" Her voice trailed off and she gave Ben a suggestive wink.

Ben shuddered and turned his attention to Savage. "And this one—God, I'm beginning to wonder what's wrong with our justice system, since three out of four of you belong safely tucked away in prison for good." He looked over at Dex, and suddenly had a sickening thought. Was it possible this was Savage's kid? A product of one of his afternoon trysts with one of Ben's classmates? He'd have to be about 22 years old for that to be the case. Ben studied the young man…he appeared younger than that, but appearances could be deceiving.

"Who knows," Ben continued, still focused on the youth. "Maybe you all belong in jail. Is anyone going to tell me who this kid is?" He looked back at Ian. "Considering you must have gone to great lengths to dig up my past and bring these two walking nightmares back into my life, I'm just gonna take a wild guess here and say that this kid is not just some random friend of yours, Ian. What's his connection to me?"

Ian smiled triumphantly. "And _that_ is what makes you great, Ben. Your intuitive sense. And you are correct…he isn't randomly selected at all. Ben, allow me to introduce you to Dex."

Dex? Ben didn't know anyone by that name. All he could assume was that he was connected to someone Ben knew…someone that was unable to be here himself or herself, or surely that person would have been. Ian seemed to be thoroughly enjoying watching Ben's discomfort with the other two. Ben's brow furrowed as he pondered the situation.

Then suddenly, it hit him. He abruptly turned his head and looked carefully at the young man…Dex. It couldn't be…he never mentioned a child… But, as he studied Dex's face, the resemblance was remarkable. It was like looking at a younger version of—

"Dex _Wilkinson_," Ian suddenly added, emphasizing the last name as though Ben wouldn't understand immediately.

Ben's heart sunk. He didn't know Mitch had a son. If he had, well…maybe he could have fought harder to make sure Mitch got beyond the wall. Maybe…he would have sacrificed himself. Ben thought of his own relationship with his father; how at times it had definitely been rocky, but he was nonetheless present in Ben's life. An important presence. Even as an adult Ben needed his father. How much more must this confused and clearly misguided kid need his father? Looking at Dex, Ben was suddenly filled with sympathy toward him.

"Dex, I am so sorry about what happened to your father—" Ben started.

"Shut up," Dex retorted, the first words Ben had heard come out of his mouth. His voice was more confident than his appearance, Ben noticed. He wondered what Ian had told Dex about the situation in Cibola. Probably nothing accurate.

Ben didn't push the teen, but hoped he would have a chance to talk honestly with Dex about what happened with Mitch.

Dex's eyes narrowed as he stared at Ben. He wanted to hate this man, this treasure hunter whose greed and selfishness led to the death of his father. The fact that he was looking back at Dex compassionately just seemed to make his feelings of anger toward Gates even stronger. How could he pretend to be sorry about what happened? He wasn't concerned one bit about Dex's father. He left him there to die.

"I don't believe anything you say," Dex stated, his expression stoic.

Ian smirked. The kid had more of a backbone than he thought.

"Now that we're all reacquainted," Ian began. "Why don't we call it a night and start fresh in the morning? I think I'll show Ben to his room."

Ben didn't want to be shown to any room. He wanted to get this overwith and get back to life as normal. On the other hand, as his head continued to pound, the idea of getting some rest didn't seem like a bad one. So many thoughts were racing in his head right at that moment, he just needed some time to sort it all out.

He followed Ian up a narrow staircase, each step creaking due to age and wear, and Ben considered the fact that it would be quite difficult to go up or down those stairs without being noticed. If he was to come up with an escape route, that wouldn't be a part of it.

"Here ya go," Ian said, opening a door that led to a vacant room. "It's not the Ritz, but you'll have to make due."

Ben cocked an eyebrow. The room was essentially empty, all but for a small, dust-covered desk and chair, a mattress on the floor, and a dresser pushed inside the closet. He walked inside the room and dropped his bags on the floor next to the mattress.

Motion on the creaking stairs could be heard clearly again, and soon Dex appeared in the door frame. Without a word, he handed Ian a drinking glass and a yardstick. Ian smiled at Ben cleverly.

"See that window behind you?"

Ben turned and glanced at the bedroom window, noticing the woodwork around the frame had some twisted wires outlining the parameter. He looked back at Ian and nodded.

"I'm being gracious enough to give you a little heads-up about this window, Gates," Ian remarked, walking to about the center of the room. "Knowing you, you're already trying to formulate a way to escape, and this window is not going to be an option."

Ben watched as Ian placed the glass on the end of the yardstick and cautiously moved it toward the window. With just the faintest touch of the glass to the wire, it exploded with a loud pop and small pieces of glass went soaring in every direction. Ben dropped to the floor and covered his face, shielding it from the flying shards of glass.

"Are you insane?!" He yelled at Ian.

Ian brushed away a piece of jagged glass that had landed on the sleeve of his shirt. "Just a little demonstration. There's about 500 volts of electricity running through those wires—I would suggest not attempting to touch them."

Ben shifted his gaze toward Dex, who was still standing in the doorway, grinning triumphantly. Obviously, the teenager was pleased with the wire experiment.

"Well done, Dex," Ian complimented, then turned his attention back to Ben. "Rest up, Ben. Tomorrow we get down to business with these codes. There's a chair right outside this door, and one of us will be here at your door at all times, making sure you don't try anything."

Ben sighed as Ian and Dex left the room, closing the door behind them. It was dark, silent, and cold. Ben couldn't remember a time where he'd felt more isolated or more defeated in his life. He had to come up with a plan, and fast.

Running his hand lightly over the mattress, he pushed away any of the bits of glass that he could feel, then sat down on the edge of it. He pulled his suitcase toward him, unzipped it and flipped the top up. He rummaged through the clothes until he got to the bottom where he'd thrown an extra sweatshirt. As he pulled it up from the bottom of the pile, his fingers grazed over something glossy and he grabbed that too.

With another deep sigh, he held the photograph of Abigail in his hands and thought about the last promise he made to her before he left that afternoon. He wasn't able to call her. She was probably worrying. Actually, she probably thought that he'd only been half listening to her when she told him to call and he didn't remember because he got wrapped up in something far more important than checking in with her. That would have been just like him several months ago.

"Not anymore," he quietly muttered to the picture. "Nothing is more important to me than you." He lay back on the worn out mattress and tried to find a comfortable position, ending up flat on his back staring up at the ceiling. "I'm sorry, Abby. I had to do this to protect you…"

...

"Thanks for stopping by and distracting me from worrying about Ben for awhile," Abigail told Riley as she walked him to the door.

"No problem," Riley replied nonchalantly.

She looked at him nervously. "I just hope he calls soon."

Riley nodded. "Yeah, he will. I'm sure he just got caught up in conference things and is waiting for things to slow down. You know the big softy won't be able to sleep until he gets his goodnight kiss from you—even if it is over the phone." He made a disgusted face. "Did I just say that?"

Abigail giggled. "Yes, and it was cute. I just hope you're right."

Riley arched an eyebrow. "When have I ever been wrong?"

Abigail rolled her eyes and immediately opened her mouth to offer several examples but Riley quickly held up his hand to halt her.

"That was rhetorical!"

"Goodnight Riley!" Abigail exclaimed.

"Goodnight Abs," he told her, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze. "Don't worry about him, he's ok."

She gave him a half smile and watched as he walked out to his beloved sports car and drove off. Closing and locking the door, she looked down at the cell phone in her hand and hit speed dial for Ben. Again. She had already left him three other messages, insisting that he call her immediately. And now every time she heard his voicemail message answer, the sickening feeling in her stomach got just a little stronger. Abigail tried to hold on to Riley's words of encouragement, but she could recall a couple times when even he didn't seem completely confident in his assurance that Ben was alright.

Abigail sighed heavily as Ben's voicemail picked up. "Benjamin Franklin Gates," she stated firmly after the beep. "Unless you want to find yourself sleeping on the couch when you get home on Sunday night, you better pick up this phone and call me back immediately," she demanded, only half joking. She sighed again dramatically, tears now beginning to cloud her eyes, and her tone softened. "I'm worried about you, baby. Just call me and let me know you're ok... I love you Ben."

...

Meanwhile, as Riley drove home, he couldn't help but wonder what was up with Ben. Although he did his best to convince Abigail that Ben was probably fine, the fact that he hadn't called her yet concerned Riley as well.

When he got back to his apartment, he rushed inside and immediately sat down on his couch, directly in front of his laptop which was sitting on the coffee table. Loading up the internet, he immediately went to O'Hare's website to check flight status, hoping some sort of unexpected delays could have explained the situation and given both he and Abigail some peace of mind. No such luck. Ben's flight arrived _early_. He actually had extra time that he could have called her.

Riley sighed, nervously raking a hand through his hair. "What's going on here, Ben?" He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and dialed Ben's number.

Voicemail. Great.

"Hey Ben, it's Riley," Riley greeted him. "It's close to midnight, Ben…where the hell are you? Anyway, just a tip—it might be a really great idea if you gave Abby a call. She's kinda worried about you, and to be honest, I'm getting to that point myself. So, uh…I know you're all busy unraveling history's greatest moments, but it'll still be there after you call Abigail. So call her, got it? I'm not kidding. I told you I'd check in on her, but I didn't sign on for dealing with a hysterical Abigail—that's your job, remember? So before it gets to that point, flip open that phone, put your fingers on those number buttons, and—"

"Your message has been sent," came the automated voice on the other line.

"What the!" Riley exclaimed, hanging up and dialing again. "Did it sound like I was done? Geez, can't even take a breath without getting cut off…that little…" he muttered until the voicemail picked up again.

"Yeah, I wasn't done," Riley said in an annoyed tone. "So where was I? Oh yeah, call Abigail. Seriously Ben, call her. Otherwise…I'm going to turn on the oven. And you know what's in the oven."

Riley hung up the phone and headed into his bedroom. He hadn't realized how tired he was until right at that moment, and as his head hit the pillow, he immediately drifted off to sleep with just a few anxious thoughts in his head. _Soon enough, it would be morning, and Ben will surely have called. Abigail could stop worrying, and the fearful feeling in Riley's stomach would disappear. That's what would happen._ _That's what had to happen_.


	12. Chapter 12

A/N - This chapter mostly explains the treasure the crew is after. The Beale Ciphers actually do exist but it's widely contested that it's all a hoax. So, the background info for the ciphers is accurate, but everything that follows as far as solving the ciphers is completely made up.

Thank you **ALL** so much for your wonderful reviews! I want to especially thank LoremIpsum, Miss Fenway, TavyBeckettFan, and smitchie.jemi-xx for giving me reviews for every chapter! Reviews are awesome--thank you!

* * *

Not surprisingly, Ben didn't have a very restful night of sleep. He seemed to wake up at every little sound, some were easily identifiable like the footsteps in the hall outside his door, but others were unknown and kept him guessing. For much of the time spent awake, he thought about Abigail and how much the couple had already been through. He worried about her, knowing without a doubt, that by morning she'd be a basket case over not hearing from him the night before. But he trusted that Riley would be there for her. Riley had never let him down, _ever_. That was the one thing that offered Ben any sort of consolation in this situation.

Finally, he was able to drift off to sleep and actually stay that way for a couple hours, that is, until he was rudely awakened with a loud, hard kick to the closed door. Ben shot up from bed again and looked with half-closed, barely awake eyes at the figure in the doorway. Savage.

"You think you're on vacation?" Savage asked and Ben just stared back, not quite ready to form words yet. Savage threw a towel on the dusty desk. "Ian wants you up, clean, and downstairs in 15 minutes. We've got work to do."

Savage slammed the door on the way out and Ben flinched at the loudness of it. As he stood up, he reached up and rubbed the back of his neck, which was slightly stiff from the odd positions his body must have ended up in last night. The throbbing in his head had decreased, but a dull ache was still present. A constant reminder of what awaited him downstairs.

Ben glanced over at the desk, then went over and picked up the bath towel. So Ian was allowing him to shower…that was _something_ at least. Gathering up some clothes, he took the towel, and opened the bedroom door. Savage was sitting in the guardsman's chair, hunched over a book. Ben ignored him, and walked a couple doors away to the bathroom.

"Twelve minutes and counting," Savage droned.

"Whatever," Ben mumbled under his breath. Is this how a prisoner felt? Every move being scrutinized by some overbearing dolt, every action being dictated, every sense of freedom being turned over to someone else's control? Savage and Ian would certainly know how to play the part of guard dog-considering they each had their share of being guarded.

However, the intimidation must have worked, because ten minutes later, Ben had made his way downstairs and into their meeting room. And there the four stooges sat, ogling at Ben as he took his seat from the previous night again.

"Coffee, cereal?" Ian asked Ben.

Ben eyed him suspiciously. "Is it laced with arsenic?"

"Ben. You're going to be with us for awhile, we're not going to starve you," he responded, with just the slightest hint of consideration.

"Um…ok," Ben said, still a little unsure, but of course it made sense. They were keeping him as a prisoner, but even prisoners got to eat, sleep, shower.

Ian slid the coffee pot toward Ben, and Ben poured himself a cup of extremely strong-looking coffee. Good. He'd probably need that.

"Another choice for you, Ben," he said in a mocking tone. "Cheerios? Wheaties?"

Ben reached out and grabbed the easily recognizable yellow box, pouring himself a bowl as the group watched him as though he were a test subject in a science experiment.

"I would have taken you for a 'Breakfast of Champions' kind of guy," Ian noted, smiling smugly.

"Yeah?" Ben replied, not even looking up from his cereal bowl. "And I would have taken you for a Cookie Crisp kind of guy, the mascot being the Cookie Crook and all."

Dex laughed out loud at Ben's instant comeback and the other three glared at him. He regained a straight face almost immediately under their daunting stares, and dropped his head, finishing up the rest of his breakfast in silence.

"Let's not waste any more time here," Ian insisted, patting the pile of papers in front of him. Ben assumed those were the copies of the Beale ciphers. "Ben, why don't you explain to the team the history of these ciphers?"

"Just so we're all on the same page here, you're not actually _asking_ me to do that, you're telling me to do so, right?" Ben enquired. "Just to make it seem like you're capable of being a civilized human being?"

Ian leered at Ben. "That's correct, Ben. I'm telling you to tell them the story."

"That's what I thought," Ben said, then sighed, trying to make sure he had the details correct in his head.

"Alright, the story goes like this. Sometime around 1818, a man named Thomas Beale led a bunch of expeditions in the American Southwest, most likely searching for gold. No one is exactly sure where he came upon this great treasure, but on one of these missions, he and his crew hit the jackpot—gold, silver, jewels, you name it. Based on one of his letters, he may have located it somewhere north of Santa Fe, New Mexico, but that's not really what's important to the story, because Beale and his crew moved the treasure back to Virginia. They secretly buried it somewhere in or near Bedford County, which is pretty much in the middle of the state," Ben explained. He noticed for the first time since his arrival that they all seemed to be fixated on him, and actually listening to him with interest. "If this treasure actually does exist, it's estimated to be well over 30 million dollars."

"What do you mean 'if'?" Ciara suddenly enquired.

"I mean there's a lot going against the likelihood that these things actually took place," Ben responded. "Some experts don't even think this Thomas Beale really even existed."

"Enough with the expert opinions," Ian spoke up, concerned that Ben's skepticism would lead to doubt in the others' minds as well. "Continue with the story."

"Well, after he buried the treasure, Beale created three separate cipher texts, all revealing different information regarding the treasure. He put the messages in an iron box, and left them with a friend, a local innkeeper named Robert Morriss, with strict instruction not to open the box unless Beale failed to return from his next journey within ten years. He told Morriss he would send him the keys to the codes, but the keys were never received," Ben continued. "They think maybe Beale died before he had a chance to send them."

"So then, in about 1832, after the ten years had passed with no word from Beale, Morriss opened the box and tried to solve the cipher texts. He was unsuccessful. Decades later, he passed the box along to one of his friends, who spent the next twenty years of his life attempting to solve these codes as well," Ben explained. "However, he _was_ able to solve the second of the cipher texts using a different edition of the Declaration of Independence than the one we all know—"

"Like the one you stole?" Dex suddenly asked.

Ben glanced over at him, ready to lecture the youth on how his actions were only a result of the threat that Ian posed by attempting to take and possibly destroy such a historical document with his carelessness.

"Yeah, that one," Ben said instead, knowing that with this group of twisted minds, it would be impossible to explain the reality of his actions. "Anyway, the cipher that he was able to figure out is the one that explains the details of the gold, silver and jewels contained in this buried treasure, as well as a general location of where it's buried. As for the other two ciphers, the first one supposedly gives the exact location of the treasure, and the third gives a list of people to whom the treasure belongs. However, no one knows what document may have been used to code those two messages in the first place, so neither of them have been solved."

"Until now," Ian added.

Ben sighed heavily. "I think you're being unrealistic about this," he told Ian. "Experts from around the world have been attempting to solve these ciphers for decades now. They've tried using anything that would remotely make sense, mainly important historical documents, that Beale might have used as a key to the ciphers, but nothing has panned out. This has led most people to think this is all one big hoax."

"And we'll prove them otherwise," Ian contended.

Ben just shook his head in disbelief and ran a hand tensely through his hair. "This is ridiculous," he muttered under his breath.

"Is it?" Ian enquired, his tone mysterious and his eyes slowly shifted toward Savage.

Ben followed Ian's gaze all the way to Savage, who was lightly tapping the top of the brief case sitting before him on the table. The corners of his mouth curved upward slightly as he unlocked the case and opened it. All eyes were on him as he pulled out a thick, leather-covered, spiraled book, then closed the brief case again and set it on the floor.

Without a word, Savage slid the book across the table to Ben, who hesitantly glanced down at it before picking it up. But as he did so, the first thing he noticed was the engraved initials, 'T.J.B.' in the lower left-hand corner.

"What the…" Ben whispered with increasing interest as he opened the cover. The lined pages and hand-written notes inside indicated this was a journal, but as he paged through the aged and yellowed pages, he noticed only some of it was written in English. He suddenly looked up and glanced from Savage to Ian. "What is this?"

"Hopefully what we need to solve these codes," Ian replied.

"Where did you get this?" Ben demanded.

"I had no idea this little journal could be worth so much," Savage mused.

"Where did you _get it_?" Ben asked again.

"It was given to me," Savage told him. Ben raised an eyebrow in disbelief. Savage caught it immediately. "Believe what you want, Gates. Don't you remember your eleventh grade pre-calculus teacher?"

Ben thought back to high school, trying to remember which math teacher was for which grade. "Mr. Morriss?"

Oh right, how could he forget? By the time Ben was a junior, court proceedings were well underway for Savage, and Morriss was very cold toward Ben. He had been very good friends with Savage, and seemed to maintain his loyalty toward him, even despite the unthinkable charges being brought against his good friend.

"_Morriss_," Savage emphasized.

Ben understood the connection he was trying to make, but found it farfetched nonetheless. "It's not exactly an uncommon last name."

"You were always one to question _everything_," Savage said in annoyance. He leaned back down and opened his briefcase, pulling out another folded up piece of paper. "According to David Morriss—your math teacher—this little book has been handed down through the Morriss family for generations now, along with several other items the family had trouble identifying. They, however, looked like they could be of value and were thus passed along." He paused and looked down at the paper in his hands, then slid it across the table to Ben. "Here's the list of Morriss' that have held these items."

Ben immediately took the paper and looked over the names, trying to do the math in his head to see if this could even possibly be legitimate.

_Robert Morriss. (Items discovered after Robert's death, contained in presumed original __box, sent by one Thomas Beale, postmarked July 14, 1828)  
__James Morriss. 1863  
__Mary (Morriss) Jackson. 1898  
__Thomas Morriss. 1910  
__Joseph Morriss. 1953  
__David Morriss. 1982_

Ben looked up, his mind trying to make sense of this new information. Could this treasure actually exist?

"Why'd he give it to you?" Ben asked. "Something like that, passed down in the family for so long…why would Morriss have given it to you?"

"Take a closer look at those pages, Benny," Savage urged. "Notice anything unusual?"

Ben quickly paged through it, the only thing unusual being the different languages. That had to be it…the languages…

"Morriss wanted you to translate?"

"Morriss wanted me to see if I could identify the languages used, considering no one else up to that point could," Savage explained.

"Let me guess, you could," Ben remarked.

"Well of course I could," Savage replied smugly. "Unfortunately, just as I was beginning to translate it, I ended up having to take a twenty-year trip to the big house and this journal here sat locked up with the rest of the belongings I had on my person that day. Morriss never told me any story about Thomas Beale or treasure or whatnot; he just wanted me to translate these pages."

"This is crazy," Ben muttered. "You all know this is crazy, don't you? The likelihood of this being true…leading to a treasure that so many have already searched for…"

Ian laughed. "The man who was called crazy his entire life is now trying to tell us we're the ones who are crazy!"

Ben looked at Ian. "I said _this_ was crazy. The four of you are way beyond crazy." He turned his attention back to Savage. "Alright, then, what language is this? Why couldn't anyone before you figure it out?"

"Because they all approached it the same way you were about to," Savage answered, lightly tapping his fingers together. "What language is it? You need to ask instead what _languages_ are there. There are more than one among those pages; in fact, there are at least four."

Ben opened the journal back up and started looking more closely at the pages with the foreign characters. He recognized some characters as Greek letters, but the rest just looked like unfamiliar symbols.

"Greek," Ben noted.

"Greek, Coptic, and two languages indigenous to the Native Americans who inhabited a large region in the southwestern United States during that particular time period," Savage explained. "Obviously, Beale must have picked up on their native languages on his many expeditions out that way."

Ben sat dumbfounded, staring at the hodgepodge of symbols on the page in front of him. It was almost too much to believe.

Savage snickered at Ben's apparent loss for words, and stroked his chin thoughtfully. "It seems Mr. Beale sent that all-important key afterall."

Ben shook his head. "I don't believe it. Morriss would have had to know all those languages in order to understand Beale's key. It doesn't make sense for Beale to have done it that way. And if this was really what Morriss was supposed to use to decipher the messages, why didn't Morriss pass this along to his friend when he gave him the box with the codes in it?"

"Obviously Morriss didn't know that Beale used his own writings as the key to the cipher. Without any additional explanation, just a box of random items including this journal, who would assume that it was anything more than just a bunch of Beale's personal items?" Savage suggested.

"Other than _you_," Ian suddenly added, noticing Ben was ready to counter Savage's explanation. "We all know you would have suspected something more."

"It's obvious," Ben agreed, his interest and excitement over this supposed non-existent treasure becoming more apparent, despite his prisoner status. "If this happened the way you're claiming it happened—and I'm not sure how you would have any idea if that was the case—then Morriss should have been cognizant of anything that would have been sent by Beale, especially considering Beale specifically told Morriss he'd send him the key. Do you know what else was in this package?"

Savage and Ian exchanged a knowing glance, and both grinned cleverly, as though they were up to something. Both Ciara and Dex still looked completely clueless, listening intently as the three men tried to piece the facts together.

"What?" Ben asked anxiously, noticing the exchange between them.

"This," Ian said, holding up the journal, "this was in an iron pot when it arrived."

Ben's eyes widened and he stood up, no longer able to sit still and process information. He began pacing the room back and forth, muttering to himself as he considered the new details.

After a few minutes of this, Ciara cleared her throat loudly to gain the attention of the others at the table. Ben was seemingly still lost in his own mind.

"All of this is quite fascinating," she said in a blatantly sarcastic tone. "But some of us have no idea why a journal in an iron pot should be so exciting."

Ben caught the last sentence and paused, looking at her curiously. With genuine enthusiasm, he strolled over to the side of her and lowered himself so he was eye-level with her.

"It's exciting because cipher number two, the one that actually was decoded, states that the buried treasure is contained in _iron pots_. Morriss had to be an idiot not to make the connection between that fact and being sent the key inside an iron pot!"

Ciara's eyebrows arched upward as she stared back at Ben, completely unimpressed with his explanation. She always wondered why he got so excited over these tales of buried treasure, though for his sake, he had better be right about this one. Otherwise, she wouldn't take too kindly to her time being wasted like this.

"Fascinating, Ben," she replied flatly with a disinterested yawn.

Ben frowned. Had it been Abigail sitting there, she would have been _genuinely_ fascinated. Her eyes would have lit up with the same excitement that Ben's had, ready to work together with him to figure out this mystery. As he stood up, he felt a wrenching pain in his chest. He missed her. A lot.

_No, Ben…stay strong. Figure this out quickly and you can go back to her… _

"One thing still doesn't make sense," Ben thought aloud, rubbing his forehead as he began pacing back and forth again. "If Beale put the journal inside an iron pot as a clue that it was the key, Morriss wouldn't have known that, unless the second cipher had been decoded already. So…why would he have done it that way…why?"

The table of idiots stared back at him as though he were speaking a foreign language. What he wouldn't have given to have Abigail and Riley there, Abby spouting off ideas and possibilities, Riley punching away at his keyboard, digging for some sort of obscure information that made all of this make sense. But no. Instead, he had Greed, Pride, Envy and Wrath gathered around him, concerned only with their selfish, divisive plan, and apparently relying solely on Ben to figure out the facts.

"Is it possible that Beale sent Morriss the version of the Declaration of Independence that he used for the second code _before_ he sent the box with the journal?" Ben considered. "Maybe it was in the same box, in fact. Maybe Morriss actually _did_ figure out the second cipher, but maybe it was late in his life, maybe he was sick and dying, maybe his memory started to fail and he didn't remember the journal…maybe Beale really did send him everything he needed to figure this out. But why these other languages? So many unanswered questions…"

"We don't have time for that, Gates," Ian suddenly snapped. "Here's the journal, here's the ciphers. You and Savage better get comfortable with each other real quick cause it seems you're going to need to work together."

Ben felt his stomach turn. "What?" There was no way he was working side by side with that lowlife!

"I told you yesterday, between our respective talents, we'll figure this thing out," Ian said. "Sav knows languages, you know codes. He can translate, you can decipher."

Ben cringed. "That could take forever!"

Ian laughed, obviously unsympathetic to Ben's concerns. "Well then you better get to it. I need my chunk of change so I can establish my brand new fed-free life in tropical Acapulco."

Ben faced his former teacher, who was leaning back comfortably in his chair, the typical arrogant expression plastered on his face. He knew he was getting under Ben's skin, and he was enjoying every minute of it. If it were up to Savage, he'd prolong the torture for as long as he could, making Gates suffer for taking away twenty prime years of his life. Soon. Gates would regret that move…he would make sure of it.

"Don't think you two are off the hook," Ian suddenly spoke up, directing his attention toward Ciara and Dex. "You'll both be key in the next phase of the plan."

Ciara smiled. "Finally, some action."

"What do I have to do?" Dex asked, trying to mask his obvious nervousness.

"A bit of research," Ian told him nonchalantly. "And help me get some props ready for the show."

"The show?" Ben enquired, not comfortable at all with the familiar up-to-no-good tone in Ian's voice.

"Oh you don't worry about a thing, Benny boy," Ian remarked, standing up and patting Ben on the shoulder. "Let's leave Ben and Savage alone for awhile so they can get working. The three of us have some other things to take care of."

Ben watched Ciara and Dex stand up and follow Ian out of the room, leaving him alone with the man he detested more than anyone on the planet. Working cooperatively with him would definitely be a test of Ben's will.

...

"What show are we getting ready for?" Dex asked Ian after they'd left the meeting room.

"The pyrotechnics show," Ian replied. "Who doesn't love some good fireworks—such an American tradition. Ben must love them..."

"But it's not the fourth of July," Dex noted, scratching his head in confusion.

"We've got something else to celebrate, Dex Wilkinson," Ian said with a clever gleam in his eyes. "You see, our treasure-hunting hero is expected to arrive home tomorrow. And _we_ all know that he's not going to be getting on that plane, but those two from the photos I showed you earlier, they'll be expecting him. And if he doesn't get off that plane, they're going to get suspicious."

"And start meddling where they don't belong," Ciara threw in.

"Exactly," Ian agreed. "So we're just going to have to take care of that little issue before it escalates into a bigger problem."

"Oh," Dex said, though he still looked somewhat confused.

"Question for you," Ian directed at both Ciara and Dex. "What's more exciting? Fireworks that light up the sky, or fireworks that wake up the neighborhood?"

"Both?" Dex suggested.

Ian snickered. "I like the way you think, boy. Why settle for one when you can have both?" He paused and collected his thoughts, then turned to face Ciara. "What do you think-is it a good day to lie and deceive?"

Ciara smiled wickedly, thrilled that Ian was beginning to speak her language. "When is it _not_ a good day to lie and deceive?" She replied.

"I knew I could count on you," he affirmed. "But just so you're entirely aware, the credibility of this entire plan hinges on your ability to be convincing. It's risky—one slip-up could completely blow our cover."

Ciara rolled her eyes, taking a few steps toward Ian until she was just inches away from his face. Their eyes met and Ian averted his gaze to the side just for a second. Ciara smiled confidently. He thought he was in charge, but she knew she could easily dispose of him too. Too many men had undermined her abilities. Perhaps Ian needed to learn firsthand as well.

"Maybe you don't really know who you're talking to," Ciara suggested in a soft, but threatening tone. "If anyone is going to blow our cover, you can rest assured it isn't going to be me. I've had many, many years of being able to convince others of…not entirely accurate information, shall we say?"

Ian felt his heart begin to pound harder. She was certainly a feisty one! Ian wondered how Ben was even able to keep up with her.

"You better figure out what you're going to do about Ben," she continued. "Because there is no way he is going to allow this to happen if he has any idea what you have planned."

Ian laughed loudly. "Oh, I have that covered, dear. And he'll be there, front and center. Torturing Gates is so much fun for all of us."

"You honestly think he's going to sit there and let us go through with this?"

"Let's just say he'll have some strong motivation to stay silent," Ian mysteriously suggested.

Ciara shrugged, still doubtful that with Ben in the picture, they'd be able to pull it off. "Whatever, Howe. It's your show."

Ian grinned evilly, a look of pure satisfaction plastered on his face. "Yes, it is my show," he agreed. "And what a show it will be…one very _explosive_ show."


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: My apologies for how long it took for this update to arrive...life, and work in particular, has been just a bit hectic these days. Believe me, most days I would prefer to climb out of bed, make a pot of coffee and spend the day writing stories; so rest assured, when I do get some free time, it's probably spent doing this! Thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed, added this story to your favorites or alerts, and have sent me some very nice, encouraging messages over the last couple weeks! It means a lot to me, and I'm quite flattered that you are enjoying the story.

This chapter starts with a flashback, so don't be confused if it doesn't seem to follow the last chapter right away. Enjoy! And errr...I probably shouldn't mention this just in case it doesn't happen...but I am actually almost done with the next part too, so that update should come quicker!

* * *

"_Hey Ben, take a look at this," Abigail said curiously. She was sitting on the floor in Ben's apartment, surrounded by piles of dust-covered books and manuscripts—items that Ben had been permitted to keep after discovering the Templar Treasure. _

_Ben peeked around the corner from the small kitchen where he'd been attempting to straighten things up since Abigail had stopped by about a half hour prior. It had only been a couple weeks since the trio had found the treasure, and though he was enjoying the feeling of satisfaction and accomplishment from years of hard work, he was beginning to realize he was far more excited about finding Abigail. _

_They hadn't talked about dating, or relationships, or about a long-term future together. Unlike all of Ben's previous relationships that, even from the beginning, seemed to need so much work put into them, everything with Abigail seemed effortless and comfortable, as though it had always been meant to be. They were spending so much time together, just enjoying each other's company, not rushing anything and just letting things happen naturally. Ben couldn't remember a time he'd been so happy and content with life, and he attributed it mostly to Abigail. _

_Ben grinned as he looked at her, sitting cross-legged in the middle of the floor, engrossed in one of several ancient books lying on the floor. Several locks of her long, blond hair fell forward over her face, the sun shining through the window making them appear as radiant strands of gold. Ben sighed contentedly, tossing the towel he was holding onto the counter and walked over to where Abigail was sitting. She looked up at him with those dangerously captivating blue eyes and smiled. _

"_What do you got there?" Ben asked, sitting down beside her and looking at the book she had in her hands. _

"_Look how beautiful this is," she marveled, tracing her fingers over a gold-embossed image on the cover of the text. _

_Ben glanced sideways at her, thinking to himself that whatever it was would only pale in comparison to how beautiful she was. He looked back to the book, watching as her fingers delicately trailed over an intricately detailed etching of a set of unbalanced scales. Beneath it, etched in the same gold, were the Greek letters spelling dikaios. _

"_What does it say?" Abigail asked him, more than confident he'd have the answer. _

_Ben gently took the book from Abby's hands and studied the image. "It's Greek. Dikaios. It means just or fair…"_

"_The scales of justice," Abigail added, referencing the picture on the cover. _

"_Mhmm," Ben confirmed, carefully turning a few pages into the book. "It looks like it might be a commentary on Plato's Republic."_

_Abigail looked at him, impressed with his recognition and understanding of the ancient language. She hadn't yet met his mother, but he had told her about his mom's expertise in languages. She must have taught him quite a bit. _

"_I've heard of that, but I don't really know much about it," Abigail admitted._

_Ben nodded, letting out a deep sigh. "You're not the only one. People don't seem to know much about these classics anymore, despite the influence they still have in society."_

"_What's it about?" Abigail asked with genuine interest. _

"_The Republic? It's primarily a philosophical discussion about justice," Ben replied._

_Abby smiled. How appropriate for Ben to appreciate an ancient discussion about justice. "Tell me about it."_

_Ben chuckled, looking at her in amused disbelief. "Tell you about The Republic?"_

_She nodded, shifting her body closer to him and snuggling up against his side. _

_Ben's heart skipped a beat as she made herself comfortable against him, and he curled an arm around her waist, letting his hand settle on her hip. He felt pretty certain he could get used to this. At this point, if she had wanted him to read her the dictionary, he would have been happy to oblige. _

"_I think one of the most interesting parts of the entire work is the dialogue about the cardinal virtues," Ben explained as a prelude. "Plato uses this example of an ideal city, and shows how when each class of people is using the virtue they're gifted with, and not trying to take over any other class' role, harmony ensues, the city functions perfectly, and justice for all is actually a reality…" _

Ben awoke with a start from the dream he'd been having, a sweet memory that brought him back to the days when he and Abigail were just beginning to fall in love. His hand was still holding her picture tightly to his chest, exactly where it was when he had fallen asleep, and as he began to recall the details of his dream, he suddenly felt as though he'd just been smacked with a ton of bricks.

"That's it!" Ben exclaimed in an excited whisper and jumped to his feet, his mind now flooded with the images from the journal entry he had discovered yesterday afternoon, and finally now, a correlation.

"Thanks, baby," he said, kissing the photograph of Abigail and placing it at the top of the desk.

He quickly rushed to the door and flicked on the light switch on the wall beside it. The sudden brightness of the room didn't even make his eyes squint as he hurried back over to the desk, the journal resting on top of it, open to the page Ben was more convinced than ever was a significant clue in deciphering the messages. He sat down in the chair and hovered over the page, studying the text one more time to be sure.

The sudden shuffling around in the room he was guarding piqued Savage's curiosity and he stood up from the chair he was reclining in. He realized he had been dozing off as soon as he looked at his watch and realized it was almost five in the morning. Last time he had checked, it was a little after two, and Ben's light snoring was becoming a deterrent to his need to concentrate on the languages he was trying to translate. Deciding he would be sharper if he could get just a few winks of sleep, he placed his guide to the Coptic language on the floor beside the chair and let his heavy eyelids close.

Savage opened the door and saw Ben bent over Beale's journal on the desk, muttering something to himself as he read.

"Figure it out yet?" Savage asked.

Ben tried his best to ignore the unpleasant drone of the voice in the doorway, but even those few words made the muscles in his neck instantly tense up. Savage. A name that, for Ben, was synonymous with a lecherous parasite that made one's skin crawl. Amazing how so many years could pass and yet the reaction he had toward this former teacher was as strong as if it had only happened yesterday. Maybe if he would show even the slightest hint of remorse…but it was obvious he had none. And in Ben's eyes, that just made him all the more revolting.

"Answer me, Gates."

"I'm not your student anymore," Ben replied, not even lifting his head to acknowledge him.

Savage let the door close behind him and sauntered over to the desk, standing just behind Ben with his arms crossed over his chest.

Ben felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up and he shivered slightly. "Would you mind backing off just a little?"

Savaged snickered. "Am I making you uncomfortable?"

"I need to think."

"You figured something out, didn't you?" Savage persisted.

"I may have," Ben mumbled. "But I'm not telling you anything until you _get out_ of my personal space."

Savage took a couple steps back from the desk.

The two of them had poured over the journal for most of the day yesterday; Savage copying certain foreign phrases and paragraphs down to look into later, and Ben searching through the English, looking for any clues or indications of exactly what amid all those languages they needed to really focus on.

Interestingly enough, he found something.

About a third of the way into the journal, there was a page that was folded over in half. As Ben opened the page up, he studied the text with interest and curiosity. It was a story. A short, random story about a dying rich man and his three servants.

No. It wasn't just a story. It was a riddle.

This was significant. Something in this randomly-placed tale would give them some sort of essential information. Ben was one hundred percent positive of that.

Savage, on the other hand, took one look at the story, thought about it for several minutes as he rubbed his forehead in confusion and frustration, then told Ben it wasn't worth wasting time over.

_Once there lived a very wealthy man, who lived alone in a mansion and had no children of his own. As he aged and grew closer to death, he was at a loss as to who to leave his fortune to, as he no longer had any living relatives, and only had his three faithful servants who resided with him in his mansion. Though they were loyal subjects, the wealthy man was not convinced that the servants would wisely and intelligently use the fortune rather than squander it, so he did not want to leave it to them equally. Instead, he decided he would leave it to__ just one of them, and it would be the one who proved himself to be as clever as the rich man himself. _

_One day, he gathered the three men into a private room which had seven doors inside of it, labeled 1-7 in numerical order. Aside from a small projector, there was nothing inside the room except the doors. The projector showed the following seven images, repeatedly, one at a time:_

_The human brain; the philosopher Plato; the incomplete phrase: 'Fair and '; a wrought iron hook with a ring of gold, silver, and bronze dangled from it; a compass; a cheese sandwich on plain white bread with the edges perfectly cut off; and the letters WdSmSjAs. _

_The three servants were allowed an entire day to study the images, after which they each had to select the door that they believed corresponded to the commonality of the images. As the wealthy man suspected, only one of the three chose the correct door, and when the wealthy man died, his fortune was left to that wise servant. Which door was it? _

"Oh, you're still wasting time on _that_?" Savage asked when he noticed the page Ben was hunched over. "I thought you wanted to get out of here."

"It's the fourth door," Ben said aloud.

"What?" Savage asked.

Ben turned and faced him. "The wise servant chose the fourth door."

"So what?"

"So, that's significant," Ben contended. "Or it wouldn't be in here."

Savage walked back over to the desk and grabbed the journal, his eyes quickly scanning over the story again. "It could be the third door. Three medals, like the Olympics? Three layers to the sandwich? The phrase, Fair and Equal—like the three branches of the government, checks and balances." Savage was becoming quite proud of the connection he was making between the random images.

Ben frowned, shaking his head. "It's not. I'm sure it's the fourth door. Why don't you stick to your language translating?"

Savage tossed the journal back on the desk. "Explain it then. And then you can explain why this senseless story actually matters in what we're trying to do."

"The correlation between all of the images is the number four," Ben began to explain. "Think about it. Start with the easy one, the compass. Four directions. Then the incomplete phrase. How many phrases do you know that start with 'Fair and…?' Probably the most obvious one is Fair and Square. The missing word is obviously what we're supposed to pay attention to, not the phrase as a whole. So now we have a square, four sides, four corners." Ben paused and collected his thoughts, looking back down at the journal page at the list of images. "A few numbers could actually work for the brain image, but four is definitely one of them, considering there are four lobes in the brain."

Savage listened to Ben's explanation and had to admit, he had a point with those three images. "Ok fine, but how do you associate 'four' to Plato and the gold, silver and bronze rings?"

"Ah, but it's not just gold, silver and bronze," Ben said, suddenly standing up out of the seat and beginning to slowly pace back and forth in front of the desk. "Why is it mentioned that the rings are hanging on an _iron_ hook? Gold, silver, bronze _and_ iron?" He glanced at Savage, who obviously didn't know and was beginning to feel a bit embarrassed that Ben kept offering him chances to respond, and he didn't know what to respond with.

"The four ages of man, according to Ovid," Ben answered his own question. "Similarly, with Plato, in his famous Republic, he defines the four cardinal virtues." He stopped again and looked over at the picture in the corner of the desk. _Thanks Abby_.

"Now all that's left is the sandwich, which is obvious once you figure out the rest. It doesn't matter what kind of sandwich it is, the point is that it was cut into a perfect square. Again, four sides, four corners."

Savage stroked his chin thoughtfully, admittedly impressed with Ben's puzzle-solving ability. "What about those random letters? Four are capital and four are lowercase?"

"More specifically, the four capitals are the first letters of the four seasons—winter, spring, summer, autumn. The lower case letters are the first letters of the month in which those seasons begin."

"Hmm," Savage sighed, walking back over to the desk. "Ok, maybe you're right. What does it mean for us though?"

Ben shrugged. "Haven't gotten that far yet. But I bet it has something to do with the pages that follow, since that's where all these languages start coming into play. Wait." He picked up the journal and started paging through the latter part of the journal. "How many languages did you say you could identify?"

"Four," Savage stated.

Ben looked up. "Four again."

"So Beale had a four fetish," he commented.

Ben gave him a disgusted look and shuddered. "I'd really not like to hear anything about fetishes coming out of _your_ mouth."

Savage grinned wide, completely amused by the way he was able to get under the skin of this grown man.

Ben looked away from the disturbing glint in the crazy man's eye, and instead grabbed the journal from the table and flung it at him.

"Why don't you save us some time and aggravation, and go translate every _fourth_ page."

Savage clutched the journal in his hand, but instead of turning and walking out of the room as Ben had hoped, he moved forward toward Ben and slowly circled him twice.

"You know…I liked you a lot, Ben," he admitted, dragging his fingers along the desk. He could see that Ben was tensing up again, and he sneered. "Always so full of curiosity, interested in things that actually mattered, unlike most of your classmates. I know you looked up to me…"

Ben swallowed hard, trying to resist the urge to deck him while he had the chance. "That was before I knew who you really were," he replied through gritted teeth. "A sick, twisted, demented pervert."

Savage slammed his fist hard on the desk. "Dammit Gates! You still don't have a clue! You think I _forced_ those girls to do anything? Hell, you saw them…did it look like they weren't having a good time to you?"

Ben cringed. Sick. Even after years to sit and think about it, he still found nothing wrong or abnormal about his actions. "You took advantage of them," he said, his voice now laced with anger that was slowing boiling over, ready to explode at any minute. "They were young girls who trusted you and you exploited them. That is _wrong_ on every level, Savage! Don't try to convince me they liked what was happening, cause it just makes you seem even more vile than you clearly are! Nobody likes being used, deceived, and taken advantage of—you made fifteen-year-olds have to carry around that guilt and shame and none of it was their fault!"

His mind suddenly flashed back to his childhood friend Amanda, whom he hadn't seen since high school graduation. He wondered for a moment how that consequential experience had continued to affect the rest of her life; her ability to trust in general, the way she viewed teachers and professors from that point forward, her self-confidence, her ability to open herself up to future relationships. It wasn't her fault, and yet the poor girl had to suffer the consequences of it, probably for the rest of her life.

But individuals like Savage—self-righteous, self-serving, self-absorbed—never thought beyond his own self. He'd never get it.

"Oh settle down, Gates," Savage said dismissively, indicating to Ben that his outburst didn't upset him in the least. "I see you're not ready to see eye to eye with me."

Out of the corner of his eye, Savage noticed the photograph of the attractive blond on the desk and reached for it. As soon as Ben noticed what he was trying to grab, he tried to pull it out of Savage's hands, but Savage backed away quickly, admiring the photo with a bothersome smirk on his lips.

"Give me that," Ben ordered.

"Is this your girlfriend?" Savage asked, ignoring Ben's demand.

Ben stepped toward Savage.

"She's a pretty girl," Savage noted, turning away from Ben and walking slowly across the room. "This is the one you want to marry, hmm? Have a family with?"

Ben followed him step for step, trying to maintain his cool. _Just give me the damn picture you stupid imbecile. _

Savage stopped walking and looked over his shoulder at Ben, his lips slowly curving upward as he saw the rage building in Ben's eyes. "I bet she was _very_ cute fifteen years ago or so…" He raised an eyebrow suggestively.

Ben stopped, his muscles beginning to tense again and his hands slowly clenching into tight fists. He was playing a mind game with Ben and Ben knew it, but he was not about to let this beast even remotely think he could get away with any of his sick insinuations when it came to Abigail.

"You _should_ marry her, Ben," Savage continued to taunt. "With any luck, you'll have some daughters that look just like her... You'd let them come see Uncle Savage wouldn't you?"

That was it. Now he'd really crossed the line. Like a desperate animal backed into a corner, Ben surged forward and shoved Savage hard against the wall behind him, the force of it causing Savage to slump to the floor in shock and pain. Ben gave him a firm kick to the stomach before grabbing him by the hair, and pulling his body up along the wall, until he was back on his feet. Savage's eyes met the abhorrence in Ben's and Ben forcefully grabbed him by the collar. He began throwing punches mechanically, one after another after another.

"I ought to just kill you now," Ben threatened between punches. "And do the world a favor."

Savage saw the crazed look in Ben's eyes and realized he was unnerving him very rapidly. Though it appeared that physically Ben had the upper hand right now, Savage knew exactly how to push his buttons. The thought made him begin laughing maniacally, despite the pain from Ben's hits and the blood gushing from his nose and mouth.

"Shut up!" Ben exclaimed, giving his head another slam into the wall.

Savage's hand suddenly came up and grabbed Ben by the neck.

"What the bloody hell is going on here!?" Came an urgent voice from the doorway.

Both Ben and Savage froze, neither of them willing to give in and let go.

"Both of you, get your damn hands off each other," Ian ordered, rushing into the room and over to the two furious men. He took one look at the damage done to Savage and cocked an eyebrow at Ben. For all the years he'd known Ben, he would never have guessed he'd be capable of bludgeoning someone so mercilessly. In the back of his mind, he recalled the advice of Ben's former girlfriend. _He shouldn't be underestimated, Ian. He's a very driven man._

"I said _let go_," Ian demanded again, giving Ben a hard shove backwards as he pulled Savage's hands off of Ben's neck. "What the _hell_ is the problem here?"

Ben and Savage continued to glare at each other, both of them breathing hard, and Savage trying to stop his bleeding nose with the sleeve of his shirt.

"Fine, you're not gonna talk, don't talk," Ian said and turned to face Savage. "You get the hell out of here and get yourself cleaned up. And you," he continued, now turning toward Ben. "Get to work on those codes."

Savage took a couple steps forward and brushed past Ben, not quite making it out of arm's reach before Ben grabbed him by the wrist and spun him around.

"Let it be known," Ben advised in a low and serious tone. "I will never, _ever_ let you get anywhere near the people I love. Not now and not in the future." He released Savage's arm with a rough shove, then walked back over to the fight scene, the wall and rug now splattered with blood. He bent down and carefully picked up the picture of Abby with such gentle attentiveness, it was as though it really were her he had in his arms. He sighed sadly as his thumb traced over the image of her face.

Savage had left the room and Ian was watching Ben with interest as he picked up a photograph from the floor, noting his final statement to Savage.

"What happened in here, Gates?"

Ben shot an angry glare back at Ian, his eyes still full of fire and fury. "You have no idea who you brought here; what these people are capable of!"

"Actually, I do," Ian corrected, smiling triumphantly.

"Do you?" Ben questioned. "Because if you really do, and you still chose to bring them here, I'd say that probably makes you the worst of the bunch! Mark my words, Ian. You're going to regret it."

Ian laughed. "Are you threatening me now?"

Ben shook his head. "No. I'm just telling you. There's no treasure in the world that's worth getting those two evil snakes involved in your life. Your obsession with it has obviously clouded your usually impaired judgment even more than normal."

"Just because they can get into your head doesn't mean they can get into mine," Ian noted, then looked at his watch. He smiled to himself as he realized it was time to implement the next part of the plan. "I have some important things to take care of. I'll be gone for a few hours, and when I get back, the four of you all still better be alive."

Ian closed the bedroom door and stood for a minute with his back against it. They were going to need to move faster now. The tension between Ben, Savage and Ciara was becoming a hindrance to the plan. He made a mental note to talk to Savage about waiting to push Ben's buttons until the treasure was found. After that, he could care less what Savage, Ciara or Dex for that matter, did to Ben. But not right now.

Ben was too quickly coming undone.


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N** - Yay! An update in a timely manner! This one has a lot of Ian and a little psychology fun. And now the announcement that will make your day complete: RILEY returns in the chapter after this one! Thanks, as always, for reading and reviewing...it keeps me motivated and excited to write! :)

* * *

Ian stared mindlessly out the driver's side window in the backseat of the cab as it crawled through the heavy congestion at the airport. He clutched the straps of his black duffel bag, going over a mental checklist of necessary items that were present and accounted for. He reached up to his ear and pushed the nearly undetectable listening device more securely inside, then shook his head slightly to let the ends of his wavy blond hair fall naturally over it. A little extra cover couldn't hurt.

Getting to the airport was the easy part. It was everything that was to follow that would be the challenge. There was no room for error.

"This'll be fine," Ian told the driver shortly after he'd turned into the airport entrance. Ian didn't want to get all the way up to the building yet. "I'll walk the rest of the way."

The driver pulled over on the side of the curb, and Ian let himself out of the cab, slinging the duffel bag securely over his shoulder. He stopped at the driver's window and paid for his ride, then watched as the cab made a u-turn and drove away.

Ian took a deep breath as he looked around the busy airport. His heart began to pound feverishly against his chest as the excitement of the task at hand began to get the better of him. It had been awhile since he'd been able to engage in such destructive mischief. He wanted to savor every moment of it, but knew he didn't have time. Do the damage, and get the hell out of there. He adjusted his dark sunglasses, and smoothed his hands over his black leather jacket. It was time.

Steady footsteps tapped a fixed rhythm along newly paved blacktop in a lower-level section of one of the airport parking ramps. Ian found himself anxiously cracking his knuckles in anticipation, inwardly edgy, but his demeanor reflected a man who was completely confident in the mission ahead of him. He made his way to an elevator and pushed the 'up' button, waiting patiently as the elevator car made its way down to his level.

When the door slid open, Ian crowded into the small elevator with nine other people and their luggage. A young couple in their later teens, obviously still going through what parents might describe as a "rebellious" stage, judging from their combined collection of tattoos, piercings, and black make-up. A tall, blond flight attendant, who appeared to need about another twelve hours of sleep as the dark circles under her eyes indicated. A married couple with a young, talkative toddler, who was showing everyone on the elevator his brand new toy airplane. Ian smiled in earnest at him. _Enjoy it kid; such innocence doesn't last. _Two business men, standing in opposite corners of the elevator, obviously not traveling companions. One was talking loudly on a cell phone, and the other appeared to be concentrating on a set of travel arrangements as though he was trying to memorize them. And finally a quiet teenager of Asian descent, pressed against the back of the car, staring down at his shoes in an effort to avoid eye-contact with anyone.

Let's play a game.

Ten people in an elevator. Which one is the psychopath?

Ian could almost envision the example being presented by a professor in a college psychology class; maladaptive behavior, no doubt. The question, class, is how can we determine who, among a group of people, is the bedlamite? What characteristics can convince us that one person is insane, while another is stable? What of one's outward appearance can demonstrate unbalance as opposed to rationality? Can we rely on our own natural instinct to help us decide?

Natural instinct would clearly eliminate the child. Society hasn't gone that far off the edge yet. Likewise, human instinct would eliminate the toddler's parents—that certainly didn't _fit_ the common image of the psychopath.

The elevator stopped. The door opened and the rebels got off, as did the flight attendant and the talkative business man.

Two women stepped inside. One very elderly, no doubt somebody's grandmother, or perhaps even great-grandmother. She moved onto the elevator at a snail's pace, holding a small carry-on bag with a slightly shaky hand. Ian immediately thought of his grandfather, recalling how he suffered with essential tremor for as long as Ian could remember, his arms and hands shaking uncontrollably even when doing simple tasks. This older woman appeared to be used to it though, the shaking didn't seem to bother her in the least.

The other could easily be described as 'the girl next door'—younger, perhaps in her early 30s, bright blue eyes with shoulder-length auburn hair pulled back in a loose ponytail, clutching tightly to two large suitcases.

Did the sociopath just get off? Or did one just get on?

Natural instinct would certainly eliminate Grandma. What on earth could she possibly be capable of, other than whipping up a good batch of chocolate chip cookies? It was highly doubtful she was using those knitting needles to poke anyone's eyes out.

The elevator came to a halt once again and the door swung open. This was Ian's floor. Apparently, it was also the family's floor, the remaining business man's floor, and Grandma's floor. Ian followed the family off the elevator, then turned and put his hand over the door so that the business man and a slowly moving Grandma could get off without having the door trying to close on them. Noticing the concrete landing was slightly cracked and uneven, Ian gently grabbed Grandma's arm and helped her over that area to help her avoid tripping.

The door closed again and Ian paused in front of the elevator shaft. He smiled cleverly to himself as he adjusted the duffel bag more securely over his shoulder.

Human nature would have been inclined to eliminate the tall, attractive, considerate man who just helped a little old lady off of the elevator. Natural instinct might suggest that a person who could demonstrate thoughtfulness could not be capable of the kind of disregard a criminal shows toward humanity. That would be a logical assumption to make.

In this case, it also would have been a horrible mistake.

As Ian made his way through the parking ramp and toward the airport, he could feel his pulse beginning to quicken and the familiar surge of adrenaline rushing through his veins. Calm, Ian. Stay calm. He tried to focus on the steady rhythm of his footsteps as they carried him closer to the line-up of cars and cabs dropping travelers off at the 'departures' entrance. Groups of people pushed their way past him in both directions, but Ian maintained his pace, trying his best to remain inconspicuous.

Ian paused at the edge of the curb, looking down the lane of literally twenty to thirty cabs, all lined up against the side, some with passengers, some empty. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, the corners of his lips curving upward as he considered the task might actually be easier than anticipated. He certainly had his pick of cabs.

But it was still broad daylight. And it was still very risky. And he knew what was at stake. He knew one wrong move could land him back in the cell that he just escaped from. No. He was not going back there.

Ian reached inside one of the smaller pockets on the side of the duffel bag and carefully took out a zippered plastic bag containing a small, white cloth. He kept walking as he opened the bag and delicately took out the cloth, letting the bag fall to the ground and concealing the cloth in his hand. He grinned wickedly as his eyes locked on his target.

"Excuse me," Ian said, approaching a cab driver who was bent over the front of his cab, running his fingers over a small crack in the windshield. "Is this your cab?"

The driver straightened up, but before he could turn to face Ian, Ian reached around the front of the driver's face and covered his nose and mouth with the chloroform-coated cloth. The driver gave a brief struggle, mumbling loudly in protest against the cloth, but Ian held it tightly against his face, anxiously waiting for the chemical to take effect.

As expected, it didn't take long, and soon the driver's body went limp and he fell to the ground. Ian smiled with satisfaction and tossed the cloth inside the driver's window. That evidence would soon be destroyed.

A security van drove slowly down the other side of the road, and Ian flagged the driver to stop. He walked calmly over to the window of the security officer's vehicle.

"What's the problem, sir?" the officer asked.

"I just got out of my cab," Ian explained, pointing toward a taxi at the very end of the line. "As I was walking this way, I noticed this man lying in the street. I tried to see if he was ok, but he um…he seems to be unconscious." He hoped his tone offered a good balance of concern, distress, and rationality.

The officer looked over Ian's head at the immobile body on the street and immediately jumped out of the van. He crouched down beside the driver and seemed to be doing some basic checking of vital signs, but it was evident that he was not a medical professional. When he couldn't wake the driver himself, he asked Ian to help him carry him to the van so that he could get him to the proper medical services. Ian helped the security officer, and they were soon on their way.

"You can thank me later for saving your life," Ian muttered, directing his comment at the cab driver who would only be passed out for a little while. He watched the van drive quickly down the lane and disappeared from sight.

With that task successfully taken care of, Ian moved on to part two of the plan. He walked casually over to the passenger's side of the now abandoned cab and looked around to make sure he wasn't being watched. He set his bag down on the ground, and unzippered the large pouch. Inside was a small black box, neat and plain in appearance on the outside, but inside was a mass of colorful wires. He and Dex had put it together the night before, and Dex had set it to be controllable from a remote location. Ian would just give him the word when everything was in place.

Ian set the box in the backseat of the car, switched the trigger button to on, and closed the door. Now with just a push of a button from an apartment building across town, this cab would be blown sky high.

Next, he reached back into the bag and pulled out a medium-sized container of lighter fluid. He walked around the cab, pouring it over the tires and over the upholstery inside the car. It was amazing how oblivious people were to the actions going on around them. Everyone so caught up in their own business. Nevertheless, Ian continued to be cautious and discreet with his actions.

"That should do it," Ian remarked proudly, tossing the empty container into the cab and returning to his bag. He situated the bag onto his shoulder again, and began to walk away from the vehicle. His heart was racing. The excitement of the moment was becoming almost too much to contain.

When he was another three cars away, he leaned down and quietly spoke into his shirt collar.

"Let's see some fireworks," he told Dex through the miniscule microphone.

"Here we go," came Dex's immediate reply through Ian's earpiece. "Three…"

Ian turned and glanced at the cab, and gasped loudly as he noticed a small, blond-haired girl, no older than five or six, standing just beside the cab. She was holding tightly to a teddy bear and looking around like she was lost, calling for daddy.

"Shit…" Ian groaned, automatically starting to jog back toward the cab.

"Two…" Dex continued his countdown.

"No, no, no!" Ian ordered urgently into the microphone. "Stop Dex! Not yet!"

Dex seemed not to be paying any attention.

"One…"

Ian could have sworn his heart stopped just at that moment. With that final word, Dex would push the button, the bomb would go off, the cab would explode, and the little girl would…

He stopped in his tracks as a young man rushed past him in a panic, quickly scooping the little girl up in his arms and began scolding her sternly for walking away from him.

Ian rolled his eyes and breathed an exasperated sigh of relief.

"I must be getting too old for this," he grumbled under his breath.

The father and daughter had barely made it past the front bumper of the car before a massive boom was heard and the cab exploded like an erupting volcano. It burst into flames and pieces of metal and glass flew in every direction.

Chaos broke out at that point. People were running through the streets, screaming, frantically dialing on cell phones, pushing past each other as they tried to get away from the airport. Alarms were going off in all directions and sirens from emergency vehicles became louder as they approached the scene of the explosion.

As he continued to walk away from the airport, Ian found himself assimilated into a group of people who were also making their exit from the airport, shocked but not panicking. The satisfied smile returned to his lips as he considered his accomplishment. The question entered his mind again.

A bomb goes off in the middle of the day in an airport parking lot with hundreds of bystanders close by. Who's the culprit?

Who appears suspicious? Who appears abnormal? Who appears angry? Nervous? Flustered? Is this where our reliable human instinct kicks in? Who in this crowd of upset, frantic people could be successfully eliminated from the list of suspects?

Answer: No one.

And that was what Ian was counting on.

Several minutes later, Ian found himself an unoccupied cab and climbed inside, leaning up to tell the driver where he was going. The driver nodded, and Ian sat back in the seat and relaxed, feeling triumphant and pleased with the outcome of his mission.

"Some crazy people out there," the cab driver remarked with a disgusted shake of his head. As he turned out of the airport, thick, black smoke from the explosion was still readily visible.

Ian sneered. "That's for sure."

...

When Ian arrived back to the apartment building, he walked into a room of his cohorts huddled in front of a computer screen. As he approached them from behind, he could hear the sound of a reporter's voice trying to yell over the sound of complete chaos in the background. The reporter was talking about the recent explosion at O'Hare airport.

Ian cleared his throat. "I'm back."

Dex, Ciara and Savage looked over their shoulders at Ian with mixed expressions.

"Nice work," Savage complimented Ian. He was sporting some ugly bruises on his face from Ben's earlier meltdown.

"That little box did all of _that_?" Ciara asked incredulously, pointing at the image on the computer screen. The cab couldn't even be identified; all that could be seen were the orange and red consuming flames and clouds of black smoke rising up from the blaze.

"Impressive, huh?" Ian asked, nodding his approval to Dex. "Great job, son."

"Did anyone get hurt?" Dex asked, trying to sound nonchalant, but the genuine concern in his eyes betrayed him. "They're saying they don't know about injuries yet…"

"Relax," Ian assured. "I saw it all happen. No one got hurt. The authorities have to say that now because they don't know if anyone was in that cab and obviously, it was blown to smithereens. Anything, or anyone, inside of it would have been toast as well. We're the only ones that know that no one was actually in that cab." He paused, and chuckled slyly to himself. "Well…there was one, wasn't there? How tragic…"

"You're good," Savage said, pointing his finger approvingly at Ian as he began to laugh. "Very smart play, Howe. Very smart."

Ian tapped his left temple and smiled. "Always gotta be thinking when you deal with Gates. Gotta stay one step ahead of him all the time." He looked around the room, just realizing that Ben wasn't with them, and no one was with Ben. "Where is Gates?"

"Sulking," Ciara replied. "He's upstairs, staring at the journal, talking nonstop to himself." She straightened her body and placed her hands on her hips. "You realize you're pushing him too far, don't you? Look what he did to Sav. This next move of yours is going to really send him off the edge."

Ian laughed. "It's fun to watch, isn't it?"

"No one's denying that," Ciara acknowledged, unable to hide a satisfied smile. "But I thought you needed his help for this code deciphering thing. Keep pushing him and he'll shut down."

"Oh no he won't," Ian insisted. "We have plenty of motivators to keep him on top of his game. Someone go get him now!"

Ciara and Savage both turned and looked at Dex, who, with a defeated sigh, got up and left the room to go retrieve Ben.

A few minutes later, Dex returned to his place in front of the computer, and Ben walked in after him. He looked tired, worn out, as though he'd aged about twenty years in the last two days.

"What?" Ben asked with virtually no emotion.

"Take a look at this," Ian said, sliding to the side to let Ben see the computer screen.

Ben's eyes widened and he gasped in shock as he stared at the raging inferno that seemed to have a mind of its own, trying its best to deny the firefighters a victory over its blaze.

"What happened?" Ben asked, wondering why the four of them were so fixated on this particular scene.

Ian turned and gave Ben a wicked glance, the corners of his lips twitching upward with anticipation he was attempting to contain.

"Bomb explosion," he responded. "Impressive, yeah?"

Ben kept his eyes on the screen, watching firefighters and security guards doing their jobs, trying to keep the panicking public away from the scene.

"Was anyone in that cab?" Ben asked hesitantly, somewhat fearful of the answer. He still didn't understand why they were so interested in this particular act of destruction, aside from the fact that they were all insane and this sort of thing excited them in a disturbing way.

Ben watched as the four of them all exchanged knowing glances with each other.

"Unfortunately…yes," Ian replied gravely.

It was his tone that made Ben suddenly feel nauseated. Who was hurt…or worse? Ben wanted to know the answer. And then again, he didn't. They wouldn't be this interested in this act unless it was someone they knew…or someone Ben knew. He felt lightheaded. Abigail? Riley? Would they have come to Chicago to try to find him? He hadn't called Abby all weekend. Abby and Riley wouldn't have been able to contact him. But would they have dropped everything and gotten on a plane to come find him? Ben rolled his eyes. Yeah, they would have. The lightheadedness was getting worse. His head began to throb. If anything happened to Abby or Riley, he'd—

"Sit down, will you?!" Ian demanded, pushing Ben's shoulders down into a chair that had mysteriously appeared behind him. "You look like you're about three seconds from passing out."

Ben took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "Abigail…" he mumbled in Ian's direction. "It wasn't…she wasn't…"

"Wasn't what?" Ian asked in annoyance. "You're rambling. Pull yourself together, Gates. I know you're not this pathetic."

Just then, Ben felt a cool cloth press against his forehead. He sighed as some of the discomfort was alleviated immediately. His eyes closed, and he focused on his breathing, trying to take his mind away from this place. Gentle fingers began to run soothingly through his hair and he smiled. Abigail.

"Abby," he muttered, reaching up to touch her hand.

His eyes suddenly snapped open and he jumped out of the seat, knowing immediately that it was not Abigail's hand.

"What do you think you're doing!?" Ben exclaimed in disgust to Ciara, who was standing behind the chair holding the wet cloth. He brushed his hands roughly through his hair and gave his head a rapid shake as if trying to dispel the invisible remnants of her touch.

"Trying to prevent you from passing out!" she retorted in defense.

"Don't touch me ever again!" Ben told her, shuddering at the thought.

"Alright, alright you two estranged lovebirds, that's enough," Ian interrupted. Ben shot him a look of repugnance and Ian chuckled. "Glad you're feeling better, Ben. The phone call wouldn't have been as fun if you had passed out and didn't get to listen in."

"Phone call?" Ben asked, now even more confused.

"Yes…about the accident…the death was tragic…"

So someone did die. But why were they the ones making a phone call?

"If you're a good boy, we might even let you hear the sound of your girlfriend's voice," Ian added.

Ben's pulse quickened. "Abigail? You're calling Abigail? Why?"

"To notify her of the death, of course," Ian responded, patting Ben on the shoulder. "Didn't I just say that?"

Ben looked perplexed. What did this have to do with Abigail?

"Why are you bringing her into this?" He demanded. "You told me Abigail and Riley wouldn't be involved if I cooperated with you. I think enduring this madness for the last two days has proved I'm cooperating."

"But Ben," Ian replied, his tone one of mocking concern, "she needs to know."

"Know what?!" Ben exclaimed. "Who died?!"

Ian crouched down until he was eye level with Ben. The two nemeses stared intently at each other in silence, until finally, Ian's triumphant smile spread across his lips.

"You did."


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N - My apologies (again!) for the delay in updating! Thanks for sticking with me!  
Thank you for all the wonderful reviews from the last chapter. You guys are the greatest. :D**

**Emily-in regard to your question about Homer's Odyssey-I did read it as a freshman in high school and I do remember enjoying it and even got myself my own copy of it after I had to turn the school's book back in; however, that was well...about 13 years ago...so I can't say that I've read it recently. However, if anything I write happens to remind you of such a classic piece of literature, I'll take it as a compliment; though I have never consciously tried to model my writing after any author specifically. I'm sure all writers are influenced in some way by what they read though. :) **

**On to the story...**

"No," Ben objected disapprovingly, immediately surmising Ian's intention. He stood up, pointing an accusing finger at Ian. "No, you are not going to call her and tell her that I blew up in some cab. This is going too far, Ian."

Ian stood upright and crossed his arms over his chest. "Sorry, Ben. It's the only way. Otherwise, when you don't happen to arrive home tonight as expected, she and your little sidekick Poole will be out tracking you down, and getting the feds involved. Look around…we can't have that."

Ben took a deep breath, glancing from Dex to Ciara to Savage and back to Ian, and nervously ran a hand through his hair as his mind worked in double-time to try to come up with a different solution.

"Did you find it yet?" Ian directed impatiently at Dex.

"Almost," he mumbled, scrolling down a webpage with no graphics and a lot of text.

"Let me call her," Ben suggested.

Ian began to laugh hysterically. "Are you mad? Why would we want you to do that?"

"Hear me out," Ben insisted. "Let me call her. I can assure her that everything is ok, and that I just have to stay a little longer in Chicago to work with the history department at the university. I'll make something up. Just let me make the call, please."

Ian sighed, stroking his chin contemplatively as he considered Ben's offer. _She_ was definitely his weak spot. He was obviously willing to go to every length to protect her. _Ah, Ben, Ben, Ben…you should know better than to reveal your point of vulnerability to a room full of predators. _

"Let me get this straight," Ian said. "You're going to call Dr. Chase and tell her that you're just fine, with no indication _whatsoever_ of your actual circumstances?"

"Yes," Ben replied.

Ian raised his eyebrow suspiciously as he studied Ben's expression. "And you're saying that she'll accept your excuse with no problem? No questions?"

Ben sighed. Abigail? No questions? Ha!

"She might have some questions, but I'll handle them," he tried to convince. "As long as she knows I'm fine, she won't suspect anything unusual is going on." Well, that probably wasn't true, but Ian didn't know Abby like Ben did.

"Hmm," Ian considered, turning to look over his shoulder at Ciara and Savage. They were gawking back at him in complete disbelief that he would even entertain the idea of letting Ben make outside contact with _anyone_, let alone his girlfriend!

Ian looked back at Ben. "And you're saying that she knows you well enough to know that you're being honest with her, right?"

Ben nodded. "Of course."

"Idiot," Ian retorted, giving Ben an unexpected shove back into the chair. "If she knows you well enough to know when you're telling her the truth, she _must_ know you well enough to know when you're outright lying to her. We're doing this my way."

"Kelly Sullivan," Dex suddenly blurted out, turning from the computer to look at Ian. "Assistant deputy superintendent of investigative services, Chicago police."

"Impressive title," Ian remarked, turning his attention away from Ben and over to Ciara. "Think you can remember all that?"

Ciara rolled her eyes at Ian's condescending tone. "I guess we'll see."

Ian walked over to the table where Dex was and picked up a cell phone sitting next to the laptop. "Is this all set?"

"GPS…disengaged," Dex replied, smiling when Ian gave him a pat on the shoulder as a sign of approval.

Ian tossed the phone to Ciara and shifted his glance to Savage. Ian gave a subtle gesture with his head toward Savage's briefcase, and Savage nodded his understanding.

"Now you," Ian began, walking back over to hover dauntingly over Ben, "Your part is real easy…you sit here, and don't say a word. Got it?"

Ben frowned. "What makes you think I'm gonna sit here and let you do this to Abigail?"

"Oh, I don't know," Ian said nonchalantly, snickering out loud. "Maybe the hope that once this is over and we have our treasure, you can return to your perfect little life and tell Dr. Chase all about how the mean bad guys forced you to help them and made up this nasty lie about your untimely death…or…" His words stopped abruptly and Ben could feel a presence behind him. Before he could even turn to look, something cool and hard was pressed against his temple. Round. Metal. Ben felt his heart begin to beat faster and hoped that his anxiety couldn't be detected in his breathing. He looked at Ian who was smiling innocently. "Or, if you insist upon not lying to her, we can certainly honor your wishes and make your untimely death a reality."

...

Abigail paced the floor in Ben's library nervously, absentmindedly clutching the diamond and sapphire heart-shaped necklace that Ben had surprised her with just days earlier. She was having trouble shaking the overwhelming anxiety that had steadily intensified throughout the day. Ben's plane had landed almost half an hour ago, which meant that he should be walking through the door any minute.

The steady ticking of the clock overhead was beginning to grate on Abigail, a consistent reminder that time continued to pass and there was no word from Ben. Of course there was traffic. And that one congested area due to construction. And there could have been delays at baggage claim. Maybe he was at the 'lost and found' counter, checking to see if they had his phone. Why else wouldn't he have called her back?

She glanced up at the clock again, running a hand through her hair as she let out a heavy sigh. "Ben where are you?"

Another twenty minutes passed. The sinking feeling in her stomach was agonizing, getting worse with every unthinkable notion of what could have happened to Ben that passed through her mind. She decided she couldn't just sit there, or stand there, or pace there and wait…she needed to find out where he was.

Abigail had just finished putting on her shoes and grabbed her keys and purse, when the shrill ring of the phone caused her to nearly jump out of her skin.

_Ben… _

She sprinted toward the phone and quickly grabbed the receiver after the second ring.

"Ben!?" She answered breathlessly; fear, hope, relief, aggravation, desperation all detectable in her voice just in the way she said his name.

There was a brief pause on the other end before the sound of a woman's voice addressed Abigail.

"Is this Dr. Abigail Chase?" the woman inquired.

Abigail sighed and rolled her eyes in frustration, disappointed that it wasn't Ben's voice. She didn't have time to deal with this; she needed to find Ben. She nearly hung up the phone when the woman asked again if it was Abigail she was speaking to, this time adding that it was an urgent matter.

The emphasis on the words _urgent matter_ made Abigail's pulse begin to race, knowing instinctively that this had something to do with Ben's whereabouts. And it wasn't good. She remained silent on her end, feeling for the first time all weekend that maybe she didn't want to know what happened, where he was. Confirming her identity would give permission to whoever this woman on the phone was to verify the fear that was situated in the back of her mind.

"_Dr. Chase?_"

Abigail heard her name for the third time and took a deep breath. She couldn't just ignore it.

"Yes," Abby replied in barely a whisper. For once she was hoping this was a telemarketer, wanting to sell her something useless or get her to take a survey about how much television is watched in the home.

The woman had Abigail's attention now.

"Ma'am, my name is Officer Kelly Sullivan. I'm the assistant deputy superintendent of investigative services with the Chicago police."

Abigail gasped, panic sweeping over her. _Chicago_. "Ben!" She yelled into the phone. "What happened to Ben?!"

"Yes, ma'am, that's why I'm calling," the woman said calmly, almost robotically. "You might want to sit down if you're not already."

Abigail was becoming frantic as she listened to the officer's ominous words. She gripped the counter where she was standing, her heart pounding hard against her chest. "_Where is Ben?_" She demanded.

There was a dramatic pause on the other end before the officer spoke again.

"I'm afraid there's been an accident," she told Abigail.

"No…" Abby pleaded. "Is he ok? Where is he?"

"Dr. Chase—"

"_Where is he?_" Abigail contended, beginning to fire off questions almost quicker than they came to her mind. "What happened? Is he hurt? Is he in a hospital? Is he with you? Can I talk to him? Where can I find him? Please, I need to see him…please…"

The officer cleared her throat, and sighed gloomily. "I don't exactly know how to tell you this, Dr. Chase, but…well, we don't exactly know where he is."

"What?!" Abigail exclaimed in disbelief. "How can you not know where—"

Officer Sullivan cut her off before she could start ranting again. "It seems that on his way to the airport today, there was a bad explosion in the cab he was riding in," she explained. "It was blown to pieces…literally."

Abigail began to tremble and tears began filling her eyes. "Where is he?" She repeated, unwilling to believe what the officer was implying.

The officer sighed. "Dr. Chase, I'm not sure you understand what I mean when I say the cab was blown to bits. There is a crew out there now, searching through debris that had been thrown hundreds of yards away as a result of the impact—"

"But Ben—" Abigail interjected impatiently. "I don't care about debris—where is _Ben_?"

"So far we've only found his wallet, which evidently was ejected from the cab. As for Mr. Gates himself, at this point we can only assume that he was trapped after the explosion and unable to get away from the fire."

Abigail felt her stomach churn and immediately covered her mouth with her hand. _Oh God…why? Why was this happening? _

"Are you telling me he's…" Abigail asked, but couldn't utter the last word of her thought. It was unthinkable.

"I'm so sorry, Dr. Chase," the officer said in a softer, more compassionate tone. "It would have been impossible to survive. We believe Mr. Gates is dead."

Abigail froze in shock, and the room began to spin. Her body went limp and the phone dropped to the floor with a loud thud. This wasn't happening. It couldn't be happening. Tears began flowing freely from her eyes and the words of the officer whirled around in her head. Accident. Explosion. Blown to pieces. Trapped. Fire. Unable to get away. Impossible to survive. Dead. Mr. Gates is dead. Ben is dead. _Ben is dead_.

Those three words played in her mind over and over again, growing louder and louder and more and more persistent in her head, until all she could do was scream in desperation. She was frantic now, endless tears pouring down her face, all of the emotion inside of her coming out in the form of loud, hysterical cries. Finally, her legs buckled beneath her and she dropped to her knees on the floor, her head falling into her hands as she continued to sob uncontrollably.

...

As Ciara hung up the phone, smiling cleverly with satisfaction, Savage lowered the gun that had been pressed against Ben's temple. Ben was furious after being forced to sit through that phone call, helpless to do anything about it. He had heard Abigail scream and it was like a knife being driven right through his heart. Was there no limit to their cruelty?

"Bravo," Ian said, clapping his hands and smirking at Ciara. "That was very convincing."

"Thank you," Ciara replied, then turned toward Ben. "Girlfriend gets worked up pretty easily, hmm?"

Ben's eyes narrowed as he looked back at her with disgust. "You just told her I was _dead_," he said flatly. "Were you expecting a different reaction?"

Ciara shrugged. "She obviously doesn't have much control over her emotions."

"At least she _has_ emotions," Ben countered through clenched teeth. It was then that he noticed how much his jaw hurt from clenching it for so long, trying to hold back the rage that was brewing inside of him.

"Clearly," she remarked, laughing to herself.

Ben rolled his eyes, wondering to himself why he was even bothering with her. Ciara wasn't worth it, but at the same time, he felt compelled to defend Abigail.

"You don't know Abigail," Ben said. "But just for your information, she is the strongest, most courageous, most intelligent woman I've ever known, and I probably don't even deserve her after everything I've put her through." Ben paused, wondering whether Abigail would be able to forgive him yet again for this latest turmoil he was putting her through. "She's the best thing to ever happen to me."

Ciara grimaced. "Oh, you are really pathetic…for a man who was once so strong to say something so…soft. I can't ever imagine you saying a line like that when we were together."

Ben looked at her. "That's because I never felt that when we were together."

"Whatever," she huffed, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Tell me something," Ben said curiously. "If Abigail's emotional reaction to hearing that I died makes her pathetic, how exactly would a strong, tough woman like yourself have reacted?"

Ciara laughed, walking around the desk and over to the chair next to Ben. She sat down in it and crossed her legs. "Oh, Ben you know me well enough to know that answer."

"I want you to tell me," he insisted.

She sighed heavily, but gave in to his request. "If some woman had called me, pretended to be in a position of authority, and told me that my man was dead," she started, pausing to collect her thoughts. "You know already that I would get to the bottom of it; I have too many available resources that would make that a fairly easy task."

"Your mind would immediately be clear enough to suspect that it was a set up?" Ben asked in disbelief.

"My mind is suspicious of everything," she replied. "I would find out the truth. And then," she turned her head toward Ben and looked intently into his eyes, her stare cold and harsh. "I'd kill the bitch."

...

Abigail wasn't sure what had happened next; whether it was the dizziness or the hysterics that caused her to pass out, but the next time her eyes opened, she realized she was staring sideways across the kitchen floor. She was laying on her side with her knees pulled into her chest, and her head throbbed mercilessly on the side that obviously landed against the hard linoleum floor. Her eyes zeroed in on the phone receiver that was just beyond the tips of her fingers and she stretched her arm out and reached for it, drawing it across the floor to her body. The weight of the phone seemed almost insufferable as she lifted it with her trembling fingers. Mindlessly, she punched a number on the speed dial and slowly raised the phone to her ear.

On the third ring, Riley picked up.

"Well, well, well," he greeted, recognizing the number of his best friend on his caller I.D. "I see you're finally getting around to calling me back. To what do I owe this honor?" He chuckled jokingly.

There was a long pause on the other end, and as Riley listened closely, he could make out soft breathing, but got no response.

"I'm kidding Ben," Riley said. "Is everything ok?"

"Riley," Abigail barely managed.

"Abby?" Riley asked, concern sweeping over him as he realized it wasn't Ben on the other end. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"Can you come over?" She asked, her voice only a desperate whisper.

Riley had never heard her like this and it was scaring him. "Abs, what's wrong?" He asked again.

"Please…"

Riley glanced up at the clock. It was nearly three hours after Ben should have arrived home; he should have been there with her by now. Why did she want Riley to come over? Why was she an emotional mess? Though in the back of his head he suspected the unimaginable, he tried to think about anything other than that. That couldn't happen to Ben. He was indestructible. He wouldn't leave Abigail. He wouldn't.

"Riley?"

The sound of his name brought him out of his thoughts and he focused his attention back on Abigail. "Is Ben there, Abby?"

"No…" she whispered after a long pause.

Riley closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"Riley," she continued in the same whisper. "I need you."

...

Riley drove like a madman to Ben's estate, weaving in and out of cars that responded with angry horns blaring and even a couple hand gestures out the drivers' side window of some of them. Rather than begin to decrease his speed, he hit the gas every time a yellow light at an intersection threatened to halt his progress. Despite his risky driving, he still felt like it was taking a million years to get to Ben's.

There was something very wrong with Abigail. And the fact that she had said Ben wasn't there with her only made Riley more alarmed. No check-in calls to Abigail, no return phone calls to either Abigail or Riley, and now no arrival home. All signs pointed toward something terrible.

Riley sped up the long driveway leading to the manor, his wheels running over some of the well-manicured lawn that Ben always warned him to be careful around. Historical grass or something.

He jumped out of the car and bolted up the walkway and onto the porch, noticing immediately how dark the house was. Maybe she wasn't even home anymore. He knocked on the door softly and waited. When there was no response or any evidence of movement inside the house, he knocked harder.

"Abigail!" He yelled as he looked through one of the frosted windows on the side of the door. Still nothing.

Riley put his hand on the door handle, expecting to have to break in the house himself, then disarm the security system before it alerted the authorities. But much to his surprise, all he had to do was push slightly on the door and it opened right up. Now _that_ was unusual. Ben always insisted, especially when he wasn't home, that Abigail keep the doors locked.

He walked into the foyer, dimly lit from a soft light glowing from the kitchen. Abby's purse was sitting by the door along with her coat, which was slung over the banister to the stairs leading up to the second floor. She had obviously been ready to just walk out the door, which would explain why it was unlocked.

"Abigail?" Riley called out again, taking cautious steps through the hallway toward the kitchen. Why wasn't she responding to him?

When he got to the entranceway of the kitchen, he froze and gasped in shock at the sight before him. He rushed toward Abigail, who was sprawled out on the floor, completely still and unresponsive to Riley's voice. As Riley knelt down in front of her, he could see that she was extremely pale, and her eyes, which were faraway and fixated on some point across the room, were puffy and bloodshot.

"Abigail," Riley said softly, gently smoothing over her hair with his hand. "Abby, can you hear me? It's Riley."

Riley looked around the kitchen for any sign that something had happened in there. A break-in or an accident of some sort…but nothing seemed unusual or out of place. The phone was still nestled in her hand, so Riley gently pulled it out from between her fingers.

"Hey," he said, closer to her ear this time. "You're scaring me, hun. Snap out of it and talk to me, ok? I'm here now."

Abigail just continued to stare off into space. Riley sighed and looked down at the phone, quickly scrolling through the "Calls Made and Received" log to see if Ben had called her. The last call made was to Riley. About two and a half hours before that, she received a call from an unlisted number. Riley wondered if that had anything to do with her current state, but continued to scroll up in the call history. Almost all the rest of the calls were to Ben's cell phone, and there was no record of any calls from Ben's cell phone back to her.

"Riley?"

Riley set the phone down immediately and looked at Abigail, whose eyes had finally focused on her friend hovering over her. There was such pain and sadness there that Riley could actually feel a sharp pang in his own heart.

"Hey," he said, trying his best to offer a warm half-smile. "Are you ok? Are you hurt?"

"My head…" she sighed, slowly reaching up to the left side of her head.

"Did you fall?" Riley asked, unsure whether he should help her get up or call the paramedics to come and take care of her. "What happened?"

"I…I think I passed out," she replied, looking extremely confused.

Riley nodded. "Ok. It's ok. Can you sit up?"

She looked back at him as though she didn't understand what he was asking her to do.

"Ok, don't move," Riley told her. He leaned down and gently picked her up in his arms, noticing how limp and pliable she was. "I'm just gonna put you on the couch in here, ok?" He explained to her as he carried her into the living room. He carefully placed her down on the couch and helped her rest her head on a pillow. "Stay here, and I'll be right back."

Riley went back into the kitchen and filled up a glass of water. He rummaged through a couple cupboards before locating a bottle of aspirin, then took the two items back into the living room. He sat beside Abby on the couch, and helped her sit up a little straighter so she could take the medicine.

"Take these, ok?" Riley instructed, handing her the glass of water and a couple pills. "You must have hit your head when you passed out."

"Thank you," Abigail said, mechanically taking the pills and drinking half the glass of water.

The two sat in silence for a few minutes. Riley was desperate to know what had happened, but Abigail had seemed to go back into her faraway place, just staring blankly across the room.

Suddenly, she began to sob, softly at first. Riley looked over at her and noticed tears beginning to slide down her cheek. He reached over and grabbed her hand and she squeezed it tightly. As the quiet sobs turned into more distressed crying, she finally turned and faced Riley, her eyes indicating for the first time since his arrival that she was completely alert.

"Why, Riley? Why…why Ben?" She pleaded to him, hoping he could make sense of this nightmare.

"Why Ben…why Ben what?" Riley asked cautiously, now completely sure that Abigail knew where Ben was. "Where is Ben, Abby?"

"Gone," she choked out, noticing Riley's sudden horrified expression. "Accident…he's…it exploded…and…he couldn't…"

"Abigail," Riley stated firmly, now feeling himself beginning to panic. He grasped her by the shoulders, probably more powerfully than he meant to. "What do you mean, gone?"

Her body began to tremble and her breath began to come in short gasps, tears still falling readily from her eyes.  
"No, no…calm down, Abby," Riley tried to comfort, rubbing her shoulders to try to help calm her down. He didn't want her passing out again. "I'm right here. We'll figure this out, ok? Tell me what happened."

"Ben," she whispered. "I want him here, Riley. Can you bring him back? Please…"

Riley felt a lump forming in his throat as he tried to hold back his own tears. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Obviously he needed to be the strong one here, because she was a complete disaster.

"I will do whatever I can," Riley promised. "You said there was an accident. Was Ben in an accident?"

She nodded slowly.

Riley took another deep breath. "And he's hurt?"

"Yes," she affirmed with a shaky voice.

"Did he call you?"

Abigail shook her head.

"Who told you he was hurt? How did you find out about the accident?" Riley asked, recalling the unlisted number in her call history.

"Police," she answered.

"Sadusky?" Riley asked.

"No," Abigail told him. "Chicago."

Riley nodded. It was slow progress, but they were at least getting there. "Where did they tell you Ben was? In a hospital?"

"No," Abby said, biting down on her trembling lower lip.

Riley swallowed hard. "Did they tell you where he was?"

Several more tears fell from Abigail's eyes before she could answer Riley. When she did, all she could manage was "Gone."

"Gone? Gone where? He couldn't have just disappeared!" He exclaimed in frustration, and Abigail's eyes widened in fear. Riley immediately got control of himself and apologized to Abigail for raising his voice. "I'm not yelling at you, Abs. I'm just worried about him too."

She nodded her understanding. "I know."

"So we need to figure out where he is," Riley insisted. "If he's hurt, we need to get him some help."

"We can't…"

Riley frowned. "What do you mean we can't? I'll call that police station and get to the bottom of this. They can't just call you and tell you he's hurt but not tell you where he is. That's ridiculous!"

"They didn't."

"Then you know where he is?" Riley asked.

"Yes," Abby confirmed.

Riley sighed and ran a tense hand through his hair. "Well tell me then, so we can help him!"

"We can't, Riley."

"Abigail!" Riley exclaimed impatiently.

"He's dead, Riley!" Abigail yelled back, her head falling into her hands as she acknowledged the words out loud for the first time. "Ben is dead. _He's dead_…"

"_What?"_ Riley gasped and his jaw dropped open, allowing her words to sink in.

It couldn't be true…


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N** **You get it all in this chapter: angst, a little suspense, some fluffy romance (I was feeling rather sappy...) There's a lot more narrative than dialogue in this chapter...just hang out in the character's heads for a bit, ok? Thank you for all your reviews...they make me smile :)**

* * *

Riley was pacing in the living room. It was a habit of Ben's that he'd grown accustomed to seeing whenever something serious was on his mind. And something very serious was on Riley's mind. His best friend? Dead? The thought was almost incomprehensible.

"Riley, you're pacing," Abigail noted softly from her position on the couch. She said it in exactly the same tone as she'd said it to Ben a million times before; it was her gentle way of letting him know that she knew something wasn't right or that he was bothered by something.

But she already knew why Riley was pacing.

"This is…this is just…" Riley stammered, trying to find words to express his thoughts. He glanced over at Abigail who was sitting on the couch with her legs pulled in to her chest and her arms wrapped around them, hugging herself. Riley stopped pacing and sighed gloomily. He'd never seen Abby look quite so lost and vulnerable.

"It's really late," Riley said, joining her on the couch again. "You should really get some sleep."

"No," she replied. "I can't."

Riley cautiously put his hand on her back and gently rubbed circles in a soothing motion. Yet another thing he'd observed Ben doing when Abigail needed to calm down or needed to be comforted. Her eyes closed and she sniffed as a few more tears fell down her cheeks.

"Abby," Riley said. "You're exhausted. I'll stay right here with you and you can try and get some sleep, ok?"

"What if they call?" She asked softly.

"Who?"

"The police. What if they're wrong? What if they find him?"

Riley felt a lump begin to form in his throat. He didn't want to believe it was true any more than she did.

"I'll stay awake and make sure I answer it," Riley assured her.

Abigail studied Riley's face for a few seconds before nodding reluctantly in agreement. She got up from the couch and headed toward the staircase, muttering to Riley that she would be right back.

Riley got up as well and walked down to Ben's study where he kept one of his laptops, figuring he could keep himself occupied with that while Abby got some sleep. He froze in the doorway, not realizing the impact that being in a space that was so definitively Ben would have on him. There were still boxes that needed unpacked from Ben's recent move back home stacked against the wall near the bookshelves. Riley shook his head in disbelief and anger and sadness. It wasn't fair. He had just gotten his life back.

Riley slowly walked over to Ben's large Victorian mahogany desk, an antique that once belonged to…well, now Riley couldn't remember who it belonged to, but it sure was an impressive detail to Ben. A bittersweet smile appeared on his face as he recalled how irritated Ben would get when Riley would put a drink down directly on the desk. You could practically see the smoke coming out of his ears as he snapped at Riley to get a coaster to put the drink on so it didn't damage the wood which had been preserved for over a hundred years.

"Damn it!" Riley yelled, slamming his fist onto the desk. Tears immediately began to cloud his eyes, but it wasn't from the physical pain. As the drops began to fall from his eyes, his body slowly slid down the side of the desk to the floor and he momentarily broke down. He knew he needed to be strong for Abigail, but right now he was alone, and suddenly realized just how lost and afraid he felt.

"What the hell, Ben?" Riley choked out angrily, speaking aloud to the air around him. "You can't just leave us. How are we supposed to do this…this _life_ thing…without you?"

...

Almost twenty minutes went by before Riley felt capable of moving from his spot on the floor. He sniffed a final time and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, then took a deep breath. He could do this for Ben. He would be strong for Abby.

By the time Riley had made his way back to the living room, Abigail had already come back downstairs and was curled up on the couch, clutching a pillow. Riley noticed that she had changed into a more comfortable pair of pajama pants and a sweatshirt she was practically swimming in. Ben's.

"Sorry," Riley apologized, placing the computer down onto the coffee table in front of the couch.

"For what?" Abby asked.

"Taking so long. Were you down here awhile?" He tried to avoid eye contact with her so she couldn't tell he'd been crying. But leave it to a woman to figure these things out anyway.

"It's ok, you know," Abigail said softly, raising the sleeves of Ben's sweatshirt to her face, slowly breathing in the lingering scent of Ben mingled with pine and grass from their walk in the park where he'd worn it last. "You loved him too."

Riley just nodded, doing his best to fight back the tears. He glanced over at Abby and tried to smile. "Like a brother."

"I know," Abigail replied and shifted closer to him on the couch. She yawned, barely able to keep her eyes open any longer.

"Why don't you try to relax a little and get some sleep?" Riley suggested. "I'm just gonna play around on the computer for awhile."

The exhaustion was getting to her. She was still in shock and disbelief; her mind confused with so many different thoughts that she couldn't even think clearly. Getting some sleep would help. In the morning, the nightmare could start all over again. But for now Abigail just wanted to drift into unconsciousness and not have to feel the anguish.

She made herself as comfortable as possible to sleep on a couch and rested her head on Riley's leg. He looked down at her sympathetically, her eyes already closed as she gave in to the fatigue. It had definitely been a long day.

With a deep sigh, Riley turned his attention to the computer and stared blankly at the home page on his internet browser for several minutes, not really feeling much like surfing the web. His fingers hovered over the keyboard hesitantly for a few more seconds before he finally typed "cab explosion, o'hare airport" into the search box.

Sure enough, the search results provided Riley with numerous links to news stories covering the mysterious cab explosion at O'Hare Airport earlier today.

Riley clicked on the first one and began reading. The details were sketchy at best. It happened in the late afternoon. The cause for the explosion was still being investigated. Car parts and other debris were sent flying through the air hundreds of yards away. Chaos ensued at the airport.

"No kidding," Riley mumbled to himself. He scrolled on, looking for anything about passengers in the cab, but there was nothing in that story. He went back to the search results and clicked on the next link.

The next story seemed longer and more detailed, with a gruesome picture of the scene. Riley winced, thinking of Ben being trapped in a cab, unable to get away from the raging flames. The story noted that it was still unknown whether or not anyone had been in the cab, but several personal items had been found scattered among the wreckage. Authorities were still working on the case.

Riley rubbed his forehead as he tried to make sense of something so senseless. Cabs don't just explode out of nowhere. Obviously someone did this purposely. But why? Was it a terrorist attack? Did Ben just have the unfortunate luck of getting a ride in the wrong cab? Or was someone targeting Ben specifically? And in that case how would they have known what cab he would have taken? And where was the driver when this explosion happened? Too many questions unanswered.

_When I find out who did this, they will pay, Ben. I'll make sure of it. They will pay dearly for taking away my best friend_. He glanced down at a sleeping Abigail, gently brushing aside a few strands of hair that had fallen into her face. _And for breaking her heart into a million pieces. Bastards._ _They won't get away with this._

_..._

Ben lay wide awake in his makeshift prison cell, staring up at the ceiling. For the first time since it started, he began to really believe that he'd gotten himself into a situation that he wouldn't be able to get out of. Aside from accurately deciphering the codes and successfully leading Ian and company straight to the treasure, which of course all hinged on the assumption that a treasure actually did exist, Ben saw no other way to end this nightmare. And even if all of that was accomplished, Ben would still be at the mercy of Ian. Just as easily as he could let him go back to his life, he could also really take it away.

Ben rolled over onto his side and shivered. The temperature outside must have gotten pretty cold and there was always a draft coming from that window above. The nights were long here, and it seemed he missed Abigail more than ever when he was just lying there, wishing she was in his arms.

Only this night was different. Tonight he knew that Abigail, and surely Riley by this point, believed he was dead. The thought of them going through any sort of grief over that heartless lie was sickening to Ben. If only he could find a way to let them know he was safe. Perhaps safe wasn't the best term. Even if he could just let them know he was alive, he'd feel a little better.

The only thing that did provide him a little comfort was knowing that Riley would be there for Abigail, and Ben was very thankful for that. Riley was the best friend he could ever ask for, and Ben regretted not letting him know that enough. He relied so much on Ben to take the lead and make the decisions that sometimes Ben didn't know if Riley realized his own strength and ability. Maybe it was simply his youth, or his unwavering trust in the treasure hunter. Or the fact that everyone knew they could count on Riley for some comic relief, that maybe he didn't even take himself seriously. But Ben knew that Riley was strong and he would be there for Abigail; a role that, other than himself, Ben wouldn't want anyone else to have.

Ben sighed and allowed his eyes to close, hoping he might fall asleep quickly and have a few hours to escape. He tried to imagine Abigail was there with him, his arm wrapped securely around her and her head resting next to his on the pillow. Usually she'd still have "very important" things to tell him, so he'd be happy to hold her and listen and steal kisses whenever she paused to collect her thoughts. Eventually she'd just forget about talking and give in to his affection, and at some point they'd fall asleep, cuddled up close together and completely content. As Ben slipped into unconsciousness, he wondered if he'd ever feel that again.

...

Abigail's head had sunk down into Ben's sweatshirt all the way up to her eyes, the notion of being enveloped by something of Ben's provided minimal consolation, but was enough to at least allow her to get some sleep. As she gave in to the exhaustion, the last thing on her mind was both painful and comforting at the same time. She snuggled deeper into the sweatshirt and her mind took her back about a week. Abigail had taken the afternoon off and the pair chose to spend the rest of the day together exploring Rock Creek Park, one of the city's most beautiful and historic sites. The day had been perfect in every way. Abigail remembered the feeling of certainty that Ben was the man she was meant to build a future with; never once imagining that their future could be cut so short, so soon.

She recalled how excited and cute Ben had been that day, his entire demeanor uncharacteristically giddy and lighthearted. Abigail found it endearing, and wondered why he didn't show it more often. All day long he was like a kid in a candy shop, wide-eyed and curious, stopping to read every single informational plaque or marker that they passed. As they walked along the park trail, hand in hand, Ben would occasionally begin to dramatically swing their joined arms, which always made Abby laugh. He kept pretending to spot rare birds or animals and pull her close to point them out to her, only to claim he must have been mistaken and drew her instead into a sweet kiss. It had been awhile since she had seen that side of Ben. But he was insistent about making things right between them. And so far, Abby had nothing to complain about.

"_You know something," Ben said, looking over at Abigail with a mischievous sparkle in his eyes, as the couple leisurely strolled along the path through a heavily wooded area. "There's an old legend that claims there's treasure buried here."_

"_What!?" Abigail exclaimed in disbelief. "I've never heard that, Ben."_

_He nodded his head ardently. "It's true."_

_Abby laughed. "And it's never been found, of course."_

_Ben shook his head. "Not yet. But…" He paused, looking up, down and to the sides as though he suspected someone was watching them. He lowered his voice to a whisper. "Not many people know about it." _

"_Oh, is that so?" Abby played along. "And just what kind of treasure is buried here? A golden swingset? An ancient birdbath, perhaps?"_

_Ben smiled. "Why don't we look around and see?"_

"_Ben, you're crazy!" Abigail exclaimed. "There is no treasure in the middle of the park!" She took his hand and assumed the lead, pulling him along the path toward the park entrance where the car was parked. "C'mon honey, we can play treasure hunt another day. It's getting dark."_

"_Do I sense some mockery in your tone, Dr. Chase?" Ben asked. _

_Abigail giggled. "Never, Ben." _

"_Good, because if you recall, you mocked Riley and I when we came to see you about the Templar Treasure, and look who was proven wrong that time. And then—" Ben suddenly stopped dead in his tracks. "Wait…shh…"_

_Abigail looked at him. "What?"_

"_Do you hear that?" He whispered._

"_Hear what?" Abby asked, straining her ears but only picking up on chirping crickets and the soft rustling of leaves being scattered by the gentle breeze. _

"_Shh…" Ben said again and started looking around. He kept an eye on Abigail as she began looking around too, and as soon as she turned her head away from him, he grabbed her firmly around the waist and playfully tackled her to the ground._

"_Ben!" She cried out through squeals and laughter. _

"_I think I found it!" He said excitedly. His body was positioned above hers as she lay flat on her back, still laughing as she looked up at Ben who was smiling triumphantly down at her. _

"_Found what?" She asked in amusement._

"_The treasure," Ben replied, matter-of-factly. _

"_Ben what has gotten into you today!?" Abigail exclaimed. It was rare to see such a casual, silly side of Ben, especially in public. But for some reason, he didn't seem to care at that moment. _

_He didn't answer her with words, but instead leaned down and met her lips with his own, kissing her with such loving tenderness that it warmed her from head to toe. _

"_Mmm, yes…" Ben murmured as he pulled away slightly from her lips. "Definitely found it." _

_Abigail sighed dreamily and wrapped her arms around his neck. "And just what do you intend to do with this treasure?"_

_Ben cocked an eyebrow curiously at her question, a grin slowly beginning to spread across his lips. "Well…"_

_Abigail caught the roguish sparkle in his stare, and she rolled her eyes in jest. "I mean, you can't very well divide me up and donate me to all the museums of the world."_

_Ben laughed. "Yeah, not this time. This time the finder's fee is one hundred percent. I'm not sharing." _

_Abigail gently pulled his head back down to hers and they kissed awhile longer, the night's chill being instantly remedied by the torrid heat passing between them. They sighed contentedly in unison when Ben slowly pulled back, and he kissed her forehead before rolling onto his side, propping himself up on his elbow. Abigail shifted her body so she was on her side as well, facing him._

_Ben reached for her hand and intertwined his fingers with hers. _

"_I love you, Abigail Chase," he told her, gazing deeply into her eyes. It had darkened outside considerably, but the nearly full moon above them provided the perfect amount of light for them to still see each other's features and expressions without any difficulty. _

_Abigail smiled shyly at him, feeling her cheeks warming under his intense stare. "I love you too, Ben." _

_The stars were beginning to multiply overhead and Ben and Abigail eventually ended up lying flat on their backs and staring up at the sky, just enjoying the peaceful calm that nature offered. Ben, naturally, was consulting his mental bank of information to try to recall the coordinates of certain constellations. The sky was so clear, it was a perfect night to try to locate some. After successfully locating the Big Dipper, Ursa Major, and Pegasus, his eyes were drawn toward something moving overhead. Ben grinned and gently nudged Abigail. _

"_Abby, look, a shooting star," he said, pointing upward. As Abigail turned her head to watch it, Ben leaned forward and kissed her cheek softly. "Make a wish," he whispered in her ear. _

_Abigail smiled as the twinkling light soared across the sky. "Only if you do too." _

"_I don't need to," he told her, lightly running his fingers through her hair. "Mine already came true."_

_And it had. She was here with him. There was nothing more that he could ask for. _

_Abby looked at him and ran a hand gingerly across his cheek, wondering if she was actually dreaming. This Ben seemed far too good to be true. _

"_Abigail." Ben said adamantly, breaking her reverie. "Make a wish before it disappears."_

_Abigail giggled at his insistence and looked back up at the sky. She closed her eyes and sighed, feeling a girlish sense of innocence and wonder as she made her wish. It had been a very long time since she'd done something like that, and though she didn't really put much stock in dreams coming true from wishing on stars, it was fun to have just a little bit of hope that it was possible. _

_When Abigail opened her eyes again, she turned back onto her side to face Ben, beaming from ear to ear. Ben couldn't help but smile to see her so happy. _

"_So?" Ben prodded._

"_So what?" Abby asked. _

"_What'd you wish for?"_

_Abigail's eyes widened and she playfully slapped Ben's arm. "Benjamin Gates, you know I can't tell you that! It might not come true then!" _

_Ben chuckled, pulling her close to him, their faces only inches apart. _

"_If you told me, I'd make sure it came true," he told her softly. _

_Abigail sighed contentedly and closed the gap between them as she captured his lips with her own in a long, sensual kiss. Everything was perfect._

_..._

Riley's eyelids were becoming heavier and harder to keep open. He'd been reading through all the information he could find about the explosion at O'Hare Airport for hours now, and though details varied by article, one thing was consistent in all of them: It was unconfirmed whether there was anyone in that cab. One article, interestingly enough, contained some quotes from a cab driver with the same company as the one that blew up; he said that the fact that personal items were launched from the cab didn't really mean much to him, noting that people left personal items, wallets, cell phones, keys – accidentally of course – behind all the time. Depending on how busy a day it was, sometimes the driver never got around to discovering those items until the end of his shift.

The officer told Abigail that they'd found Ben's wallet. Was that the only thing they were basing his "death" on? Or did they actually have more information that they didn't reveal to Abby? Ben could have dropped his wallet, couldn't he? But then…why wouldn't he have made it home last night?

Riley sighed heavily, feeling more and more uneasy about this entire situation and more and more convinced that there was more to it than what was told to Abigail. He looked down at her, still asleep, but with a slight smile on her face. Riley wondered if she was dreaming.

_Hope it's a good one,_ he thought. _You deserve it._

He needed to take a break from staring at the computer. All it was doing was raising more questions in his head that he was having trouble processing considering his tiredness and the strong emotions related to losing his best friend, which at this point superseded any sense of practicality.

Riley leaned back against the couch and rested his head against the back of it, finding himself staring mindlessly up at the ceiling. He could close his eyes and sleep. If the phone rang, he'd certainly hear it, right? But then again, he promised Abby he'd stay awake. Ben would have stayed awake for her, wouldn't he?

Riley sighed, trying his best to keep his eyes open, but rapidly losing the battle. They'd close and he'd catch himself, snapping them back open and looking around the room. And that's when something did catch his attention.

A miniscule red light blinked once overhead.

Riley had seen it out of the corner of his eye and turned to look for it again, not exactly sure where it had come from in the first place. It was overhead though, which seemed odd. As far as Riley could tell, there was nothing on the ceiling that should have any reason to blink.

Minutes went by and he began to doubt what he thought he'd seen, figuring that his tired mind must be playing tricks on him. He leaned his head back against the couch again and just stared upward, his thoughts wandering to memories of his best friend.

And then it happened again. The light blinked.

This time he was staring directly at it.

It was coming from the ceiling light in the center of the room.

He watched that spot closely, waiting to see if it would happen again. Another ten minutes went by, and there was the quick flicker of light again. It was barely distinguishable, and unless he'd been staring straight at it, he probably never would have noticed it.

Now his curiosity was piqued. He looked down at Abby, still fast asleep, and gently lifted her head, holding it gently while he worked his way out from under her. He quickly placed one of the pillows under her head and let her re-settle. Trying his best to be ultra quiet, he took one of the chairs from the dining room and brought it into the living room, right under the light. He couldn't help but smirk to think of what Ben's reaction would be to him getting up and standing on the historically significant chair.

But he had to know. And he wasn't ten feet tall to be able to reach it himself. Considering Abigail would have probably had the same reaction as Ben, he looked once over at her to make sure she was still asleep, then stepped up on the chair.

Good timing. As soon as he stood up, the light flashed in his face. There was no doubt anymore in his mind. But what was it?

Riley held the dome that covered the bulb as he loosened the screws that held it to the light fixture. He let the screws fall to the floor and carefully pulled the dome off, holding it with one hand as he looked up at the light bulb. Nothing seemed out of place or unusual there.

And then, like it was cooperating with him, the red light blinked again. It was coming from a small, black circular object, no larger than a dime.

"What the hell is that?" Riley whispered, staring at it for awhile before reaching up to touch it. As he felt around the edges of it, he realized it was stuck to the fixture with some sort of double-sided adhesive, obviously not a regular piece of the light. With a deep breath, he pulled the object off the light and turned it over a few times in his hand, studying it closely.

When it finally clicked, he gasped and jumped down from the chair. Not wanting to disturb Abigail, he quietly went outside on the front porch and let the object fall to the ground. With all the strength he could muster, he slammed his foot down onto it, shattering it into a million pieces.

Riley leaned against the front door, shivering slightly as a chill swept over him. He closed his eyes and slowly let out a deep breath.

"What would Ben do next?" Riley pondered.

...

Savage stared in confusion at the panel of monitors against the wall. He grabbed the remote control and began pressing buttons, turning the various screens on and off.

"Hmm, that's strange," he remarked to himself, rubbing his brow as he thought.

"Howe!" Savage yelled a few minutes later. "Come take a look at this."

Ian appeared in the doorway a few seconds later and walked over to Savage's side.

"What happened?" Ian asked, his eyes focused on the monitor with the snowy picture.

"It looks like you lost feed from that camera," Savage stated the obvious.

Ian's eyes narrowed. How could that have happened? "What room is that?"

"It appears to be…the living room," Savage confirmed.

"Get Dex," Ian directed at Savage. "He should know what happened here."


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N Thank you ALL for reading and for your kind reviews...they do brighten my day! I especially wanted to thank Allie, Anwyn23 and master of time for your reviews of the last couple chapters too--I try to respond back to my reviewers but obviously can't with anonymous reviews, so I just want you to know I appreciate your comments and encouraging words very much! And to those who wanted more villain action...you get quite a bit of the villainess in this one...enjoy!**

* * *

Dex Wilkinson stood in front of the twelve screens against the wall, rubbing his brow in bewilderment and muttering to himself. His ability to concentrate was severely compromised by the fact that Savage and Ian were breathing down his neck, waiting impatiently for Dex to come up with an explanation and solution.

"Well?" Ian asked when Dex turned and rushed over to his laptop, bringing up a program that appeared to be some sort of central control system.

"Give me a minute," Dex muttered. "I'll run a troubleshooting scan and see if it can pick up the problem. It may just need to be reset." Dex was hoping that was all it was. He didn't want to think about the possibility that the cameras had been discovered. Ian would probably not respond kindly to that blunder.

Ian and Savage began discussing the fact that they needed to get moving on this mission or risk being caught. Savage said he was going to translate some more pages from the journal and check with Ben to see if he'd deciphered anything yet. And if he hadn't, Savage casually mentioned that he might give him a little more motivation to work a little quicker.

Meanwhile, Dex watched the computer screen as the scan results popped up in front of him. Everything appeared to be working properly. Everything except camera number 2. The words "Device Not Recognized" flashed in front of his eyes and he scratched his forehead.

"What is it?" Ian asked, noticing his fidgeting.

"Just uh…well, I'm not quite sure," Dex mumbled. "I'm gonna reset it and see if that works."

"And if it doesn't?"

"Well…I don't know yet," Dex admitted. "It could mean…"

"That they could have found the cameras?" Ian asked, his tone becoming aggravated. "I thought you hid them well?"

"I did!" Dex defended. "They're inside the lights! Who would think to look there?"

Ian huffed and crossed his arms over his chest. "You better hope this is just a technical glitch, boy."

...

"Abigail," Riley whispered excitedly as he knelt down beside the blonde, still fast asleep. He put a hand on her shoulder and gently shook it. "Abby. Abigail…come on Abs, wake up." He wasn't quite sure how he was going to tell her about the hidden camera, or about the obvious possibility that there was something going on that was far more complicated than either of them realized.

Abigail stirred in her sleep and mumbled something unintelligible. Riley shook her a little harder.

"Abi-gail," Riley coaxed in a sing-song voice. "Time to get up now. Wakey wakey…"

Abigail, still somewhere in between dreamland and reality, felt herself being shaken and gradually reached up to touch the hand on her shoulder. She smiled and tried to intertwine her fingers with the ones on her shoulder.

"Ben…" she sighed.

Riley grimaced. "Er…not exactly…" This would certainly be a disappointment when she finally did open her eyes. "Abigail, it's Riley. I need you to wake up…we need to talk. It's important."

Abby's eyes eventually fluttered open and she looked around the room in confusion. Why was she sleeping on the couch, and why was Riley kneeling on the floor shaking her awake? And where was Ben?

When her gaze finally wandered back to Riley, she saw the concern in his eyes and instantly remembered what had happened. It wasn't a dream. Ben really was gone. Tears immediately flooded her eyes as she sat up on the couch and sobbed.

"I don't want to live without him," she whimpered, her eyes pleading desperately with Riley to fix this disaster.

Riley nodded his understanding and sat down beside her on the couch. He put his arm around her and pulled her close, letting her cry into his shirt. He figured he'd better give her a few minutes before he told her about what he'd found. She was already in enough shock.

"Riley?" Abigail asked a few minutes later, lifting her head and looking up at him.

"Yeah, Abs?"

"You guys were best friends. Do you think…" She paused and sniffled. "Do you think Ben would have eventually wanted to marry me and build a life together and have a family? We talked about that a lot, you know. But you know him…did he really want that?"

Riley sighed and smiled sadly at her. Would it make her feel better or worse to know that was what Ben wanted…probably more than anything.

"Yeah, Abby…he really did want that," Riley replied, somewhat hesitantly. "He wanted it very much."

Abigail smiled. "Really?"

Riley nodded, thinking about the engagement ring Ben was so excited about. "Really. If I had to...I'd bet, oh, about 177,000 dollars on that fact."

Abby looked confused, but didn't question it. Sometimes Riley said strange things no one quite understood anyway.

"Abby, we need to talk about what happened last night," Riley told her seriously. "I know you don't want to relive that, but it's important. You need to tell me exactly what happened on the phone with that officer. Do you remember her name?"

"Oh Riley, do we have to –"

"Yes," he interjected firmly. "Abigail, I don't want to freak you out, but some things here are just not adding up. I spent half the night looking through articles and news briefs about that explosion yesterday and not a single one of them said anything about Ben Gates being inside that cab or even that there had been any casualties for certain. A bunch of them said that was still yet to be determined, but this was hours after the explosion happened. Surely they would have found something, some sort of evidence that a human being was in that cab…"

"They found his wallet," Abigail said. "That's what she told me."

"Yeah, but a wallet is not like finding an arm or something," Riley reasoned, and Abigail cringed at the imagery. "Sorry. I just mean, they can't definitively know that he was in that cab just based on his wallet being found outside of it."

Abigail's heart began to race as she considered what Riley was implying. "So…what are you saying, Riley? Do you think he's alive?"

Riley ran a hand tensely through his hair as he took a deep breath. He didn't want to give her any sort of false hope, but truthfully, he wasn't convinced that Ben was dead. And until there was a body to prove it, he refused to believe it. "I don't know, Abigail. I don't know what's going on. All I know is this entire scenario makes me feel very uneasy, and I think there's a lot more to it than we know about."

...

Ben sat somberly at the desk in his room, staring blankly at the latest pages of the journal that Savage had translated. The top of the desk was nearly covered with papers. Ben shook his head hopelessly; with the attention to detail that discovering a cipher or code entailed, it could be days, even weeks, before he might find anything.

Beale did seem to have a common theme with the number four, so logically, Ben tried to figure out if there were any patterns in fours. Fourth word? Fourth letter? Fourth consonant? Fourth sentence? It could be anything. Ben groaned in frustration and crumpled up the page, throwing it at the wall across the room.

The door to his room creaked open and Ben rolled his eyes, not even looking to see who it was. They were all the same. He didn't want to see any of them.

"Hello, Benjamin."

Especially not her.

"Now what?" Ben grumbled, sensing that the insidious viper was making her way over to the desk. She must've been feeling the need to inject her venom into someone.

Ciara had brought the chair from outside the door into Ben's room and carried it over to where he was working. Parking it across from him, she sat down and stared at him, leisurely turning a phone over and over between her fingertips.

"Any leads?" She asked.

Ben looked up at her. "No." He wouldn't have told her even if he had any.

Ciara sighed, her eyes wandering around the room. "You'd better come up with something soon," she warned. "They're not going to wait forever, you know."

"Thanks for the tip," he responded dryly.

She slowly returned her intimidating stare to his face, capturing his eyes almost hypnotically. They glared at each other for several minutes before Ciara tossed the phone in her hand onto the desk in front of Ben.

"Call her," Ciara stated.

Ben's pulse quickened as he glanced down at the cell phone in front of him. He looked back up at Ciara doubtfully. "What?"

She sighed. "Call her. Before I change my mind."

Ben sat dumbfounded, reaching for the phone with shaking fingers and watching the expression on her face the entire time. She was stoic. No emotion. Cold. At least that much was normal.

"You want her to know you're alive, right?" Ciara asked.

Ben nodded slowly, too taken aback to come up with any words. This was very unusual of Ciara McNeil. She didn't do _anything_ unless it benefitted her in some way.

"But…but…why?" Ben stammered.

Ciara shrugged nonchalantly. "What can I say, I'm feeling generous."

"No catch?" Ben inquired skeptically.

She rhythmically tapped her blood red nails on top of the desk, deliberately stalling. Finally she looked back up at him and smirked. "Wouldn't I have already told you the catch if there was one?"

Ben swallowed hard; he could feel his heartbeat throbbing in his throat as he flipped open the phone and cautiously pressed the buttons to his home phone number. The thought of even just hearing Abigail's voice was enough to get the butterflies fluttering around in his stomach. He was just about to press the 'Send' button when Ciara suddenly opened her mouth.

"Oh wait," she remarked casually, as though she had just remembered a small detail. "I guess there is one catch…"

Ben's eyes narrowed and his heart sunk as he looked across the table at her. The familiar wicked smirk was beginning to appear on her lips.

"It's not a big catch, though," she continued, secretly delighting in the look of devastation in his eyes. "Certainly worth letting the woman you love know that you're alive, I'd think."

"What is it?" Ben asked with a heavy sigh, snapping the phone closed again.

Ciara delayed intentionally, tapping her nails against the desk again, enjoying his position of compliance to her. She had discovered long ago how fun it was to toy with Ben's emotions.

"They're going to kill you, you realize that don't you?" She finally stated plainly. "You may think you know what they want from you, but you don't. Not entirely, at least. The reason you're here isn't primarily to solve these codes and lead us to this so-called treasure—I mean, sure, splitting a few million between us would be a nice perk, but it's not _why_ you're here."

"Well by all means, Ciara, why don't you enlighten me as to _why_ I am here then?" Ben replied.

"In case you haven't noticed, no one here is on your side," Ciara pointed out, smiling triumphantly. "Why do you think Ian was able to pull all of us together? Everyone here has an axe to grind with you, Ben. You honestly think helping them find some kind of treasure is going to be enough for them to just release you back to your perfect life, with your perfect reputation and your perfect mansion and your perfect girlfriend? Please," she said in disgust. "You're smarter than that."

"Ian said—"

"Ian's a liar!" Ciara cried out with laughter. "We're all liars, Ben! You, of all people, know at least that much! That's how people like us make it in this world. We lie, and cheat, and steal…because we can. Because we're good at it. Because honesty and fairness bores us out of our minds! Why be fair when you _know_ you can win every time?"

Ben rolled his eyes. "You're unbelievable."

"I prefer 'driven,'" she corrected. "It's gotten me quite far in life in case you've forgotten. And you're not above this sort of behavior either, Ben. You would lie and cheat and steal…hell, you'd even kill…given the right motivation."

Ben shook his head. "No."

"No?" She questioned, leering at him. "Too dishonorable for you; the righteous and noble Benjamin Gates? Let's think back for a minute. Did you not _steal_ one of the nation's most historic documents to protect it from Ian? Did you not deliberately _deceive_ the President of the United States in order to gain information you needed? Are you not _lying_ to Dr. Chase right now in order to keep her safe?" Ciara paused, her smirk slowly growing into an evil grin. "Would you not _kill_ if it were the only way to save someone you loved?"

Ben just sat there, speechless.

Satisfied that her suggestions had successfully shut him up, Ciara sat back in her chair and studied Ben's face inquisitively. It wasn't so long ago that those charming blue eyes looked at her with affection, even admiration. They were her downfall. She had let his devoted, amorous gazes become a distraction, unintentionally developing feelings for him. He was meant to be nothing more than a pawn. Nothing more than the fall guy. But it was her who fell. She fell for him and it nearly cost her everything. Never again would she make that mistake. Benjamin Gates would never, ever have the upper hand on her again.

"You can call her, Ben. I'm giving you to opportunity to do so," she said in a commanding, strictly business tone. "The offer isn't going to be on the table indefinitely. You have your chance now."

"What's the catch, Ciara?" Ben wanted to know.

"Why, Ben? Is there something you _wouldn't_ do if you knew it would relieve the woman you love of the pain she was feeling?" Ciara baited, standing up out of the chair and slowly slithering her way toward to Ben. She began humming softly as she walked around him, a sadistic smile playing at the corners of her lips as she noticed his posture immediately change from relaxed to rigid. She paced behind him, still humming, preying on him like a siren, seductive but so very dangerous. Ciara allowed him to sit uncomfortably for several minutes, laughing inwardly as he tried his best to guard himself from being lured into her trap. But he was no match for her. Not anymore.

She finally stopped pacing and stood directly behind him. He didn't budge. Impressive. Ciara figured he would have been up and out of that chair fast enough to make her head spin. Perhaps he wasn't as disgusted by her presence as he implied... She grinned, and deliberately ran her cold fingernails lightly across the back of his neck

Ben felt his neck muscles begin to tense up and a bitter chill surge throughout his entire body. He desperately wanted to turn around and shove her as far away from him as possible, but he was frozen, as though she had injected him with her viper venom and paralyzed him. And as if the fingers weren't enough, he could sense her shifting subtly into a new position, crouching down to his level. His stomach churned when he felt her breathing steadily, undesirably close to his ear.

"Would you die for her, Ben?" She asked him softly, suggestively.

"Yes," Ben responded immediately, without even a hint of reservation in his voice.

An ominous silence hung in the air for what seemed like forever, quiet enough to hear a pin drop. She continued to breathe against his ear, and Ben felt himself growing nauseous and lightheaded, wondering when this nightmare would end.

"I thought you might say that," she hissed in a cunning undertone, then abruptly and unabashedly sucked his earlobe into her mouth, lecherously stroking it with her tongue.

Ben shot up like a rocket out of his chair the second he realized what was happening, the suddenness of his movement nearly sending Ciara flying across the room.

"_What the hell are you doing_?" Ben exclaimed, covering his violated ear with his hand.

Ciara sneered, satisfied with his explosive reaction. "Reminding you."

"Of _what_?" He asked in complete disgust.

"You used to like that…" she alluded.

Ben cringed. "Don't remind me. My judgment in those days was clearly askew."

She laughed mockingly. "Sit down, Ben. It's time to make a deal."

"You keep your distance," Ben ordered, reluctantly walking back over to his chair and sitting down. He watched her closely to make sure she wasn't coming any closer.

Ciara, on the other hand, was thoroughly enjoying his obvious discomfort. "I'm sorry, Ben. I just couldn't resist…there's just something that's so sexy about a man who's willing to die for the woman he loves…"

"Is that what you want then?" Ben demanded, growing impatient with her games. "Do you want me dead? Will that end this nightmare?"

Ciara sighed as though she was growing bored, before walking briskly passed him and sitting back down in the chair across the table from him. She met his eyes with her own. "No. I'm not going to ask you to die for Dr. Chase. That wouldn't be very nice of me, would it? This should be much easier."

"What then?"

"I'll let you call her right now," Ciara explained. "Tell her you're alive, you're safe, you've never been happier. Assure her that you're fine and that she doesn't have to worry about you…then tell her you're not coming back to her."

Ben laughed out loud in disbelief. "What!?"

"I'm not joking," she informed him. "You basically have two options. You can take my offer and at least get to talk to her one last time. Then you and I can team up and take out the three of them downstairs. We could pick up where we left off so many years ago." Ciara paused, satisfied with the look of shock and disgust on Ben's face. "Or…you can take your chances with the four of us, but know for certain that you won't be coming out of this alive."

Ben shook his head. "Have you gone completely insane? What makes you think I'd want to pick up where we left off?"

"We had something once..."

"Yeah, a relationship built on lies and deception!" Ben exclaimed. "Ciara, you wanted to _marry me_ so that you had someone you could easily pin your crimes on! That's not love…that's not even like! That's twisted and evil. If it had gone that far, I could be sitting in a prison cell for the rest of my life for a fraudulent con orchestrated by you!"

Ciara sat back in her chair and casually slid her fingers through her long, dusky hair. They could have been a good team together, if only he cooperated. If only he could abandon his old-fashioned notions of doing what was noble and right and ethical.

"I did have feelings for you, Ben," she stated. "Whether you want to believe that or not."

"I want you to leave," Ben said angrily.

"So you don't _want_ to call her then?" She asked, purposely trying to get under his skin.

"Not under those terms," Ben informed her. "When I said I'd do anything to take away her pain, I didn't mean I'd do something that would hurt her even more."

"You're letting your heart foolishly decide your fate, Ben. I've just given you an out. By not taking it, you're doing nothing more than proving how weak you really are," she told him pointedly. "This unconditional love that seems to drive you, it doesn't stand a chance against four headstrong wills driven by retribution, animosity and egocentricity."

Ben smirked. "Well that's where you're wrong," he said. "But coming from someone who has no understanding of love, it doesn't surprise me that you think there is something more powerful. In the end, I guess we'll see, won't we?"

"Whatever. You had your chance," Ciara remarked coolly, obviously bothered by his final assessment. In a huff, she stood up and walked confidently toward the door, letting it slam shut behind her.

...

Riley was pacing again in the living room, talking quietly to himself. There were so many powerful emotions swirling around inside of him that he couldn't sit still if he tried. Abigail's outlook had improved dramatically with even the slightest notion that Ben could still be alive. Riley just prayed that he was right. He hated the thought that she might have to endure hearing that he was, in fact, dead a second time.

He still hadn't told her about the camera. She was in such a fragile state that he didn't want her going completely berserk on him. Truthfully, Riley just wasn't sure where to start with the little information he had and just a hunch. He wasn't used to having to come up with the brilliant plans…that was Ben's job. And actually, Abigail was no slouch when it came to coming up with some of her own as well. But Ben wasn't here. And Abigail was in no mindset for developing brilliant plans.

"Alright," Riley finally said, stopping his pacing. Abigail looked up at him. "I think we need to go over everything we know so far."

"Haven't we done that?" Abigail asked, looking completely exhausted.

"Again."

Abigail nodded. "Alright. I got a call yesterday evening—"

"No wait," Riley interrupted. "Before that. I think we need to start before that."

Abigail looked perplexed. "How far before that?"

Riley suddenly remembered how strange Ben had been acting before he even left for this trip. Was there a possibility that he knew something was going to happen? Riley shook his head, dismissing that idea. _Ben would have told Abigail. Or at least he would have told Riley. Unless he couldn't. But if he knew in advance, then he could have told someone. So why wouldn't he…? Something had to be at stake. Something huge. But what? And who would want something from him to such a degree that it turned into this?_

"Before he left," Riley finally answered her. "Remember we both agreed that he had been acting strange before he even left?"

Abigail nodded, her mind flashing back to the morning of the day he was leaving for Chicago, picking up his cell phone in three separate parts, trying to get him to explain what was going on to her. He seemed a million miles away then.

"When did that start?" Riley asked. "When did you first notice he was acting weird? I mean, weirder than normal."

Abigail cracked a slight smile at his comment. Ben did have some interesting quirks, but she had grown accustomed to them. And right at that moment, she would have given anything to have him back with her, safe and sound, quirks and all.

"The night before he left," Abby replied thoughtfully. "We had a nice dinner together, and then we…um, we had a nice rest of the night…very nice actually…"

Riley made a face. "Abigail. Stay on track. I don't need those details!"

Abby blushed lightly. "Right…sorry. He was fine at that time, acting like his usual self. And then…" She tried to remember specifically the point at which he did change. And then it hit her. "Then you called him! After he got off the phone with you…that was when he started to seem a little bit off."

Riley looked confused. "What? I called him?"

"Thursday night…at like two in the morning. You had actually stayed at your own place for a change? Don't you remember?"

Riley shook his head slowly, looking at Abigail helplessly. "Abby, I didn't call him that night."

The expression on Abigail's face looked like she had just run smack dab into a concrete wall. "What do you mean?...Ben said…Are you sure?"

Riley let out a weary sigh. "Now I wish I had…but no."

"Then who…? And why would he lie to me?" Abigail wondered out loud. She looked and sounded hurt.

"Well there had to be a reason, Abby," Riley defended Ben. "A good one. That much I know. He wouldn't have done it otherwise."

Abigail didn't appear to be satisfied with that excuse. Wasn't this one of the biggest issues between them? Ben making decisions on his own that affected them both? He had sworn to her that he wouldn't do that anymore.

"So now what?" She asked. "What do we do now Riley?"

"I…" Riley started, trying to think of something profound to say. "I don't know."

Not terribly profound.

Ben would have had a plan by now.

"What I do know is that we need to figure out who called him that night. I think that might be an important detail. Let's start there, ok?"

Abigail nodded. "Ok." She suddenly felt a chill rush through her body and shuddered, a horrible feeling of dread coming over her. Even if Ben wasn't dead, he was definitely in trouble. That much she was sure of. And God only knew how much time she and Riley would have to get to him before it really was too late.


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N - Ah yes, remember me? Wondering if I still have any readers left? Sorry about the two-month delay...life got hectic again. And then I got stuck at a point in this chapter for a very long time. Hopefully there won't be such lengthy delays between chapters...but alas, here is the next chapter. You may need to go back and refresh your memory...it has been awhile hasn't it? Time does fly...**

* * *

The windy city was living up to its name on the colder-than-average November afternoon. Ian was standing in contemplation beside a window in the dark and drab kitchen, watching as crumpled bronze and auburn leaves whipped past the dirty pane of glass. The breeze made an eerie whistling sound as it seeped through the worn-out seal around the window, cooling the kitchen even more than the chilly 60-degree indoor temperature. He rubbed his temples, his forehead wrinkling as he tried to fight back the impending headache that was quickly coming on.

Ian was becoming increasingly concerned about the amount of time it seemed to be taking Ben and Savage to decipher the clues in the journal. He knew there was something in that journal that would lead them straight to the treasure, and would have bet his life on the fact that Ben would have had it figured out by now. It had already been four days since they'd began to work on it. Ian was beginning to wonder if Ben was purposely stalling. He couldn't possibly be thinking his two allies would be able to figure everything out and actually discover where he was, could he?

Maybe he simply needed a little more motivation...

"Can't we just kill him now?"

The question was posed from behind Ian, drawing him away from his thoughts and from his fixation on the gracefully dancing leaves. He looked over his shoulder to see a disgruntled Ciara, her arms crossed over her chest as she waited for Ian to give her his attention.

"I've had it with him," she continued. "I think we need to call his bluff. He's not afraid to die…so he says."

"I don't have what I need from him yet," Ian replied. "We can't kill him now."

"And what if you never get it from him?" Ciara challenged.

"I will."

"I want him to suffer," she insisted, her tone cold and calculating. "If we wait much longer, he's going to find a way to get himself out of this."

"We all want him to suffer," Ian agreed. "And he will. You can be sure of that."

"We need the girl."

Ian frowned, not pleased at all with her persistent assertiveness. "What girl?"

"Dr. Chase," Ciara stated plainly. "We need to bring her here."

Ian shook his head adamantly. "No. She stays out of it. If I break my word to Gates now, he won't work for us. Blondie thinks he's dead—isn't that torture enough for both of them?"

Ciara sighed, shaking her head in disbelief. "I don't think you understand," she told Ian in a soft, but commanding voice. "I want him to feel completely powerless; tormented by the knowledge that he is entirely unable to be the hero in the one situation that would matter most to him…"

Ian noted the conniving undertone and became slightly uncomfortable with her sudden need for immediate revenge.

"Let's force him to watch her die," Ciara continued, her lips curved upward in a sadistic smile. "And then kill him."

"No!" Ian countered firmly. This woman was not in charge and she might as well know it. "Dr. Chase remains out of the picture as long as Gates is cooperating, and that's final."

Ciara turned with a huff, flipping her long hair over her shoulder and stormed off in the other direction. "We'll see about that," she muttered.

......

"Here," Abigail said softly, placing a hot cup of coffee in front of Riley, whose eyes were glued to his laptop screen.

"Thanks," he muttered, reaching for the mug and taking a sip without ever looking away from the computer.

Abigail sat down in the chair beside him and sighed. She felt helpless, wishing there was something she could do to help but not really knowing what that was.

"Maybe you should take a break," Abby suggested. He looked exhausted, and with good reason. He'd been awake now for well over 24 hours.

"If Ben's alive, I don't think we can really afford to take a break," Riley replied flatly. He didn't intend it to sound accusing, as though she was suggesting they had time to waste, but he half-regretted the way the words fell off his tongue. "I just mean – "

"I know," Abigail cut him off, nodding in agreement. He just looked so tired. "Is there something I can do, Riley? I feel completely useless."

Riley looked up from the computer screen and smiled sympathetically at Abigail. For someone as strong-willed and determined as she was, it had to be frustrating to just sit back and wait rather than rush out and do something to remedy the predicament. For as long as Riley had known her, Abigail had always been one to take charge of the situation – just like Ben. Now it seemed neither one of them were able to take charge of anything.

"Yeah, actually, there is. Help me think of a password that Ben might create."

Abigail looked at him doubtfully. "This is Ben, Riley. With him a password could be just about anything."

Riley tapped his fingers against the table as he thought. "We need access to a log of his cell phone use. I can't get into his account without a password and the cell phone company apparently didn't buy the fact that Ben disappeared and I need to see his records."

Abigail sighed, trying to recall any of the passwords he had used for various websites.

"Try 'Lincoln,'" she suggested. "His favorite president."

Riley keyed the name in. "Nope."

"Treasure?"

Riley tried again. "Not that either."

"1776?"

"Not long enough," Riley said. He tried a few more possibilities before reaching the conclusion that this method could take much longer than they really had. "Wait a minute," he said with a snap of his fingers. He grinned at Abigail.

"What?" She asked anxiously.

"I've got a better idea." He began typing away at the keyboard again, muttering to himself using a lot of computer lingo. Abigail just watched him expectantly.

A few minutes later, Riley's entire expression changed, his brow furrowed and his lips curved downward. "This can't be…"

"What, Riley?" Abby asked.

"Well, it doesn't make any sense."

"What doesn't?"

"How is this possible…" Riley wondered aloud, ignoring Abigail completely as he thought.

"Riley!" Abigail yelled in aggravation.

He looked over at her, and turned his computer screen so she could see as well. What was there looked like just a bunch of symbols and numbers and a few addresses, but other than that, she couldn't make any sense of it.

"What's all this?"

"I just tracked the GPS in his phone, and this is what it came up with," Riley said, pointing to the bottom line of the screen.

Abigail shook her head in confusion. "Riley, I don't have a clue what that is."

"It's at O'Hare."

"So?" Abigail asked. "Of course it is. That's where Ben was."

"No, no," Riley objected. "If this is correct, his phone is _inside_ the airport."

"That's impossible," Abby stated logically. "Ben supposedly never made it inside the airport. The cab blew up outside."

"Unless someone found his phone and took it inside to lost and found," Riley suggested.

Abigail shook her head. "Not likely, Riley. That scene was marked off and searched by the police for hours…if they'd found his phone, it would be at the police station."

"Get me your phone, I'm gonna get to the bottom of this," Riley instructed.

Abigail hurried into the kitchen and grabbed the cordless phone and brought it back to Riley. Her stomach began to churn nervously as she watched Riley dial, presumably, the airport. Could Ben have actually made it inside the airport? And if so, why didn't he come home on his return flight? She began unconsciously biting her fingernails as Riley agreed to be put on hold for the third time. He looked over at her and rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, hello…finally," Riley said eagerly into the phone after a few minutes. "Please don't transfer me somewhere else! All I need to know is if a cell phone was found on Sunday because I seem to have lost mine."

"Sir, let me take your name and check on that for you, and someone will get back to you about that—"

"No!" Riley exclaimed, cutting off the woman, who had earlier identified herself as Chantelle, unexpectedly. "You don't understand. It's really important that I find out where it is. I can't stress to you the importance of that."

"Um…ok, sir," she said, seemingly taken aback by his insistence. "What's your name?"

"Ben Gates," Riley replied.

"Ok, Mr. Gates, and can you describe the phone?"

Riley made a face, indicating his confusion. Did the airport really have that many lost cell phones that they needed a description of it?

"Uh, describe it?" He repeated, looking to Abigail for help. "It's um…silver. No keyboards or any of that fancy stuff…"

Abigail suddenly grabbed Riley's arm tightly. "Mount Rushmore engraved!" She told him excitedly.

Riley looked at her and failed an attempt to stifle a chuckle. "One second," Riley said to Chantelle, covering the mouthpiece with his hand. "_What did you say?_" He asked Abigail.

"Don't ask," She replied with a roll of her eyes. "Long story short, we were at a conference and one of Ben's fans came up to meet him afterwards. This guy just happened to be some sort of engraving artist, and while Ben was chatting with him and twirling his phone around in his hands, the guy just suddenly grabbed his phone and said he wanted to engrave a picture on the back of his phone for him…"

Riley looked dumbfounded. "Are you kidding me?"

Abby laughed. "No! Tell them that a picture of Mount Rushmore is engraved on the back of the phone!"

Riley sighed, returning his attention to the airport attendant. "Um…there's uh, there's an etching of Mount Rushmore on the back of the phone," Riley tried to explain seriously.

"_Excuse me?_" Chantelle asked.

"Can you just check to see if you have it?" Riley asked, growing impatient.

"Hold please."

Riley sighed, tapping his feet anxiously on the floor. He glanced at Abigail, who appeared to be just as nervous, fiddling with a pen on the table. It seemed like they had waited an eternity before Chantelle returned with the verdict.

"Mr. Gates?"

"Yes," Riley answered. "Did you find it?"

"You're in luck," she replied. "This phone almost went out with the trash on Friday."

Riley frowned in confusion. "The trash?" He repeated, causing Abigail to suddenly look up with the same confused expression. "Wait…on Friday?"

"Yes, sir. Fortunately for you, a man on our maintenance staff was taking out the garbage bags, and he kept hearing this phone ringing. He figured out which bag it was coming from, emptied the contents and sure enough, there was your phone. You're lucky someone was trying to get a hold of you at that time."

"Yeah," Riley agreed, his mind already trying to make sense of how Ben's phone ended up in the trash.

"Would you like it sent to you, Mr. Gates?"

"No," Riley quickly replied. "Just hang onto it, and I'll be there to pick it up myself."

Riley hung up and looked at Abigail.

"Why would Ben throw his phone in the garbage?" She asked him.

Riley shook his head. "He wouldn't. He didn't. There has to be another explanation…" He sighed heavily and ran a hand tensely through his hair. "And what's even more curious is that she said his phone was found on Friday…not Sunday."

"Which would explain why he never returned our calls," Abigail reasoned.

"Yes, but…why wouldn't he call you…" Riley said slowly, speaking his thoughts aloud as they formed in his mind.

"From another phone," Abigail finished.

Riley's concerned gaze met hers. "Yes."

Abigail swallowed hard, trying to fight back the sickening feeling creeping up from her stomach. "He's in trouble," she said fearfully.

Riley nodded in agreement. "Let's go."

"Go where?"

"Chicago," Riley said decisively.

Abigail took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. She was trying her best to remain calm and logical, but fear for Ben's safety was overshadowing all her efforts at being rational. Fortunately, Riley seemed to have a good command over his emotions, and if he didn't, he was certainly doing a good job of faking it.

"Ok," Abigail concurred, standing up from the table. "I'll go upstairs and gather up a few things and be right down."

"Good idea," Riley replied. "Who knows how long this might take."

They exchanged uncertain glances before Abby turned and headed for the staircase. Riley sat back in the chair and looked toward the ceiling, offering a desperate, silent plea from his heart for Ben's life, and for a little help for him and Abigail as they ventured off to find Ben.

As his gaze remained fixed on the ceiling above, a familiar red light blinked from the chandelier.

"No way…" Riley whispered, staring intently at the light above. Another camera? How many were there? He listened carefully for a moment, making sure Abigail wasn't on her way down the stairs, before quickly standing right up on the table and looking inside one of the glass candle-holders that ornately adorned the light.

"What the hell…" He remarked softly, pulling out an identical miniature camera to the one he'd previously discovered in the living room. "Where did these come from?"

Riley quickly got down from the table and walked into the kitchen, immediately glancing up at the light overhead. Not wasting any time, he removed the glass dome from the light fixture and gasped when he discovered another camera. Were they in every room? Who could have done this? Only someone with some very advanced hacking skill would have been able to get past Ben's "Fort Knox" security system.

He got down and looked around the kitchen, trying to decide what to do with the two cameras in his hand.

"Here we go," he said, tossing them into the sink and letting them slide down the drain. He turned on the water and flipped the switch for the garbage disposal. A hideously loud crunching sound of metal and plastic reverberated throughout the mansion, and Riley cringed, hoping Abigail wouldn't come racing down to find out what happened.

"Three down…who knows how many more to go…" He said, hurrying off to the other rooms on the first floor.

......

"What's happening here?" Ian asked impatiently, as a fourth monitor went blank.

Dex was beginning to panic. It was obvious that someone had discovered the cameras and was disabling them, and Dex could only come up with so many excuses and explanations as to why it was happening. The other three had crowded around the monitors, looking extremely displeased, as Dex punched away in vain at the camera settings from his own laptop.

A fifth monitor went blank and Ian turned to Dex, scowling with disapproval.

"Are they malfunctioning, or did someone find them?" He exclaimed angrily.

"I..I don't know," Dex stuttered in response.

Ian surged toward him, grabbing his shirt by the collar. "You _don't know_?"

Dex flinched from the sudden action. "It would be…unlikely…that they'd all malfunction at the same time," he explained nervously, his fear evident.

"Then someone found them," Ian stated, releasing his hold on Dex. He began to pace back and forth silently.

Ciara turned around and looked at a very nervous and pale Dex, then turned her attention to Ian. She shook her head in disgust. "Serves you right for relying on a kid to handle a man's job."

Dex glared at her, momentarily forgetting about the fact that their system of monitoring the Gates mansion was completely unraveling.

"Oh _shut up_," Ian spat. She was getting on his nerves. "I doubt you could do any better."

"No," she admitted. "But I probably know someone who could. Someone far more knowledgeable than this…this _amateur_."

Savage turned from the monitors and silently walked over to where Dex was seated. He pulled a chair over from the table and sat right beside him.

Dex glanced sideways at Savage, whose close presence was enough to make his skin crawl. After learning what the creepy silver-haired man had been locked away in prison for, Dex did his best to keep a safe distance from him.

Savage could sense discomfort from a mile away, and this boy was very uncomfortable. A smirk crossed his lips as he subtly put an arm around Dex's shoulders, feeling the young man tense up immediately.

"I think you're both underestimating our young friend's abilities," Savage said after a few seconds of enjoying the anxiety emanating from Dex.

Ian and Ciara looked at Savage questioningly, and Savage's sadistic grin grew.

Dex flinched as Savage's hand gripped his shoulder, squeezing it as tightly as he could.

"Wilkinson Junior is going to take care of this…_minor setback_…aren't you, son?" Savage questioned, though it was easily understood to be more of a demand than a request.

"Um…" Dex started, and Savage gripped his shoulder even harder. "Ow…yeah…yes, I'll uh…I'm working on it right now…"

"Good," Savage replied, letting go of the boy's shoulder. "Because I'd hate to have to take out my frustrations on someone other than Gates." He stood up and took a couple steps away, before turning to look back diabolically at Dex. "But then again…it might be just as fun."

Dex couldn't disguise the look of fear in his eyes as he swallowed hard, fighting back the urge to throw up. Ian wouldn't let Savage get away with anything though…would he?

Ciara scowled with revulsion at Savage and shook her head disapprovingly. "You're disgusting."

Savage smiled at her. "I've been called worse." He laughed mockingly. "All true, however."

An abrupt sound of static cut through the tension between the four of them and they all looked up at the wall of monitors.

Two more had just gone blank – the ones that were receiving the feed from the two cameras placed in the same light, overlooking different parts of the large room. Now there was no doubt in anyone's mind that someone was systematically disarming them, room by room.

....

Abigail called for Riley as she made her way back downstairs with a suitcase of spare clothing, announcing that she was ready to go.

_That's strange_, she thought to herself when there was no response from him or movement in the dining room where she'd left him. After looking in both the dining room and the living room and not finding a Riley, she began wandering through the large mansion, checking the other rooms. At last she found him, balancing on his toes on Ben's desk chair in the study, holding the dome from the light in one hand and inspecting the light fixture.

"Riley, what are you doing!?" She exclaimed, obviously startling him.

His body jerked, causing the wheels on the bottom of the chair to begin moving and Riley quickly lost his balance. The dome flew out of his hands and he fell to the floor with a loud thud.

Abigail rushed forward and caught the glass dome just before it hit the ground, sighing with relief that it didn't shatter into a million pieces. She placed it on the ground and turned her attention to Riley, who was sitting in shock on the floor. She laughed at the sight.

"Are you ok?" She asked through stifled giggles. "I'm sorry I scared you."

Riley scowled at her as he stood up, brushing imaginary dust from his arms. "Didn't anyone ever tell you not to sneak up on someone when they're inspecting a light?"

She laughed again, before her expression turned to curiosity. "Why are you up there anyway? It's a good thing Ben didn't see you standing on that chair."

"_Actually_ it's a good thing Ben has a friend who's incredibly intelligent and has a knack for discovering hidden cameras that happen to have been planted in his mansion."

"What?" Abigail asked, her brow furrowing in confusion.

Riley held out his hand and showed her the small camera he'd just removed from the light. Abby gasped upon seeing it.

"What? Who? Where'd that come from?" She blurted out, her look of confusion becoming one of apprehension.

"I don't know," Riley replied. "But it's the eighth one I've found. Seems like someone's been watching you."

"Oh my God!" Abigail yelled in a panicky tone. "Are they in every room? Who would do this? How would they get inside the house? Riley!"

"Settle down, Abby," Riley tried to assure her. "They're not in every room…it seems they're only in the rooms where you and Ben spend the most time."

"Eew, are there any in the bathroom?" She asked with a shudder. "Is some pervert watching me shower?"

Riley resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Abigail, I really don't think their intent was to see you undressed in the shower."

She suddenly frowned, looking almost offended by Riley's remark. "And why _wouldn't_ they want to see me in the shower? Are you trying to imply something about the way I look?"

Riley threw up his arms in surrender. "No Abigail! I'm not saying anything about how you look in the shower! I don't think Ben would appreciate that much, anyway. What I am saying is that judging by the places these cameras were located, it looks like they're more interested in following Ben's habits…not checking out the morning bathroom routine."

Abigail still looked disgusted as Riley made his way past her and swiftly headed down the hall. She turned and followed behind him.

"But just to ease your mind, we'll check there next," Riley told her as he started up the stairs. Just as suspected, there were no cameras in the bathroom. Abigail was momentarily relieved until Riley located the one that was in Ben's and her bedroom and then she launched into a tirade about a lack of respect for people's privacy.

Riley couldn't help laughing. "So…_basically_ what you're saying is you and Ben offered someone quite the show…is that right?"

Abigail turned a deep shade of red and huffed loudly, crossing her arms over her chest. "That's not funny, Riley."

"Actually, it kinda is," he said, still laughing. "Don't worry, Abs…they probably took one look at bare Ben and shut that monitor off."

Abigail bit the inside of her cheek, trying not to smile. "That's not very nice."

"Then why are you laughing?"

"I'm not laughing!" She objected, turning her back to him to hide her giggling.

Riley rushed around to the front of her, still teasing her like a younger sibling would until finally she burst into a fit of laughter. It seemed highly inappropriate considering the circumstances, but it was probably what they both needed at that moment.

"Told you you're laughing!" Riley chided.

Abby shook her head. "You're a brat, you know that?"

"But you love me anyway." He flashed her an innocent grin.

She rolled her eyes. "Yes, Riley, of course I love you."

"I'll just finish checking these upstairs rooms real quick, and then we'll get going, ok?"

Abigail nodded. "Ok."

Riley left the bedroom and Abby was on her way out as well, when something struck her as odd as she glanced toward Ben's side of the bed. She walked over to the bed and sat down on the edge of his side, subconsciously hugging his pillow tightly against her. Her eyes gazed around the room, not sure what seemed out of place until she looked at the top of his dresser. The picture she hated. Where was it?

Abigail stood up and walked over to the dresser, and found that the frame Ben kept the picture in was laying flat, face down on the dresser. Abby picked up the frame and realized the picture was no longer in it. With a sigh, she returned the frame to the dresser. Just another piece of this unsolvable puzzle.

"Benjamin Franklin Gates, what in the world have you gotten yourself into?" She asked, shaking her head doubtfully.

.......

Ben sat in the old, wooden chair at the desk, staring blankly at the wall in front of him and massaging the back of his neck, which had grown stiff from looking down at papers for hours on end. If he wasn't focused on the task at hand, his mind always wandered to thoughts of Abigail; thinking about everything from their petty arguments to romantic evenings alone to imagining what her reaction might be when he asked her to marry him. He thought of all the things he wished he told her, things he promised himself he _would_ tell her if he was fortunate enough to make it out of this alive. He figured she'd have a few choice things to tell him as well. He'd deserve every last scolding though, and would willingly accept every word she had for him…if just to hear her voice. Those thoughts were essentially the only thing motivating him to continue cooperating with Ian.

Something was going on downstairs. Ben could hear arguing, but couldn't actually make out what was being said. For a brief moment, he entertained the thought that perhaps their little coalition was breaking down.

"Time to take a little break…" He remarked to himself, his curiosity getting the better of him.

As quietly as one possibly could in an old building that happened to make an absurd amount of noise every time you took a step, Ben made his way downstairs and walked toward the usual meeting room. The voices were louder and clearer by this point and it was obvious that it was Dex who was on the receiving end of the verbal whipping.

Ben stood silently in the doorframe, trying to figure out what was happening. They were all obviously irritated, accusing each other of being the "weak link" in the indestructible force, all of them far too preoccupied to even notice Ben in the doorway.

He looked to the wall with the monitors that were scrutinizing everything going on in Ben's house, as that seemed to be the source of the frustration. To his astonishment, all but one of the monitors were either completely blank or the picture was snowy. Ian was screaming at Dex about not hiding the cameras well enough, to which Dex tried to defend himself, but it just fell on deaf ears.

The final monitor went blank and Ian's eyes narrowed as he stared at Dex.

"Obviously you _didn't_ if someone just located and disabled all of them in less than an hour!" Ian yelled. "You worthless little idiot!"

"Hey!" Dex retorted, standing up out of his chair. It seemed the youth had suddenly discovered he had a backbone. "I don't have to take this from you," he said, then glanced over at Savage and Ciara. "Or either of you."

"Oh really?" Ian asked, taking a few steps toward Dex.

"Really," Dex answered, his voice slightly more unsure than it had been two seconds prior. "None of the rest of you know anything about computers and hacking, or assembling bombs, or anything else you've needed me to do for you."

Ian snickered. "And you don't think the three of us, with our combined resources, could come up with someone else who does? Boy, you are here because I thought you might get some satisfaction from taking part in the destruction of Gates…but if you can't handle the job, there are many others who can."

When Dex didn't have a response, Ian abruptly lunged forward and grabbed Dex by his shirt collar again, this time giving him a very hard shove against the wall behind him.

"Let that serve as a warning, _Declan_. I won't tolerate another mistake from you," Ian threatened.

Dex slid down the wall, holding his head in his hands as he tried to catch his breath after the wind had been knocked out of him from the unexpected impact.

Ben watched the young man groaning softly in pain and almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

"You know what this means, of course," Ian addressed Ciara and Savage. He didn't wait for a response from them. "Gates' little sidekicks are beginning to gather clues in the mystery of his disappearance. That means our time here needs to come to end, quickly."

"And go where?" Ciara asked.

Ian looked at Savage. "You need to finish up with those translations and put the pressure on Gates to figure out where the treasure is. We need to be well on our way out of town before those two nuisances get too close."

Ben could hardly contain the newfound hope and excitement that this predicament presented for them – a small victory in a much bigger battle, but the thought that Abby and Riley hadn't given up even after Ciara called with news of his "death" allowed him the first moment of optimism he'd had since he'd arrived. In fact, so overwhelming was the sudden rush of enthusiasm, Ben had to fight back the urge to do a little happy dance all while singing "My computer geek is smarter than your computer geek" in typical grade-school fashion. Instead, he quietly slipped out of the doorway and returned to his room, an ear-to-ear grin plastered immovably to his face.

He drummed anxiously on the desk, trying to figure out what to do next. Yes, Riley had obviously discovered the cameras, but that still didn't give them any idea about what happened to Ben.

_I need to get word to them somehow_, Ben thought to himself. _The question is…how?_


	19. Chapter 19

**Yes, I know it's been awhile since my last update. My sincerest of apologies. But here is the good news-a new chapter awaits you below. In addition, I am almost finished with the next chapter, which originally was going to be a part of this chapter, but it became way too long to be one chapter. So! In a day or so, I should be able to post the next chapter after this one. Thanks for reading :)**

* * *

Abigail and Riley wasted no time in getting to the airport, hoping to get tickets on the next available flight to Chicago. Dusk had just fallen, and the sky was rapidly growing darker, but the pair was too anxious and too determined to wait until morning to leave. Abigail was hopeful that there would be an overnight flight that still had vacant seats. On the way there, as Abigail drove, Riley quickly did an internet search to find out which airline had the next outgoing flight.

"Hmm…" Riley sighed, scrolling through his options.

Abigail glanced over at him. "What?"

"Well," he began, "do you want the good news or the bad news?"

"Might as well give me the bad," Abby replied. "I'm starting to get used to it."

"The next flight to Chicago doesn't leave until 6:30 a.m."

Abby glanced down at the digital clock on the car stereo. "What? That's hours from now!"

"Yep," Riley concurred. "It looks like there are still tickets available though, and this flight would get us to O'Hare right before 9:00 a.m., so customer service should be available and we can get Ben's phone."

Abby nodded. "Well, if that's the next flight, I guess that's our only option."

"Yeah, driving would take a lot longer," Riley agreed.

"So what's the good news?"

"Oh yeah," he said, flashing her a toothy grin. "I just saved a ton of money by switching to Geico!"

Abby laughed, rolling her eyes in jest. "I guess you spend plenty of time in front of the computer _and_ the television. Is that really the good news?"

Riley chuckled. "No. Even better than that. We get breakfast on this flight!"

"Oh, well that _is_ something to get excited about," Abigail replied with a hint of sarcasm in her voice.

"Look Abigail," Riley said in a serious tone, now looking intently at her. "It's a rare thing these days to get meals on planes...especially _free_ ones. This is definitely good news."

"Well at least we won't have to worry about getting you fed when we land in Chicago," Abigail remarked.

"What makes you say that?" Riley asked dubiously.

"Riley! We have to find Ben, remember? Ben? Your best friend? In trouble? Remember?"

"Of course, I remember," Riley said. "Now stop being such a nag about it."

Abigail shot him a death look and Riley immediately dropped his gaze and busied himself with the computer on his lap. They drove the rest of the way to the airport in silence, both wondering nervously what sort of situation they'd be finding themselves in once they got to Chicago.

...........

The old leather-bound journal landed with a thud on the table in front of Ben, a trail of dust rising up into his face as the bang jarred him from his reverie. His mind had drifted almost immediately upon his return to the beat-up desk, wondering what Riley was able to figure out on his own and worrying that Abigail was going to try to become more involved than he would have liked.

Coughing once from the dust particles tickling his throat, he looked over his shoulder to see Savage standing above him, arms crossed over his chest.

"That's it, Gates. I've finished translating," he declared nonchalantly. "The ball's in your court now. You better make a move fast, or it's game over for you."

"Did the incorruptible 'team' have a little tiff down there?" Ben asked tauntingly, ignoring Savage's idiomatic threat. "Sounded like quite the temper tantrum…"

"Mind your own business," Savage replied, pointing at the journal. "And your _only_ business is figuring out the location of that treasure. You have one day to do so."

Savage turned to walk toward the door and Ben suddenly felt a rush of panic sweep over him.

"Wait!" Ben called. "A day? What are you talking about?"

Savage stopped and slowly turned around, smirking at the change in Ben's tone to one of unease.

"Circumstances are forcing us to move faster than originally anticipated," he told Ben. "We no longer have the luxury of waiting around for you to get around to deciphering the clues, Gates. We have to be out of here within 24 hours."

"What? Why?" Ben asked. "I can't guarantee this is going to be done that quickly."

"Tell it to the _boss_," Savage replied, sarcastically exaggerating the word 'boss.' "But from what I understand, you have two very clear choices. One, you either figure it out in the time allotted you so we can be on our way to the treasure location, or two, you don't figure it out in the time allotted you and we do away with you and find someone else who can solve the codes. Either way, we won't be staying here much longer."

The door to the room closed loudly behind Savage as he left Ben alone with the journal. Just when he thought the scales had tipped just slightly in his favor, there was this. Raking a hand through his hair and letting out a frustrated sigh, Ben swept his other hand across the table and knocked the journal to the floor.

_Damn it. _

_Now what? _

Ben looked around the room the way he had hundreds of times in the last few days. There was no escape; no magic way out. The question lingered in his mind and the options were limited. 24 hours. It was now quite literally a do or die situation.

Ben paged through the rest of the translated pages, trying to search as carefully as he could for any indication of what was used to code Beale's letters. He knew he had to work quickly, or else come up with a way to stall their departure from this old apartment. From the way Savage said it though, it sounded like they were pretty determined not to take any chances getting caught. Ian would be adamant to the fact that he was not returning to prison. Savage likely had similar sentiments. The other two were probably adamant about not making a trip there in the first place.

"Something needs to click," Ben mumbled to himself. "There is something here…where is it?"

Whatever and wherever it was remained concealed however, and Ben began wondering if he would have to make up a solution in order to just stay alive. It was frustrating him to no end that he couldn't figure out the mystery contained in those pages.

Savage's translations offered nothing special or out of the ordinary. Just tales of Beale's experiences, stories about people he met along the way and detailed accounts about traveling through the mountainous terrains in virtually uncharted territories. Fascinating, but nothing more than a diary of stories.

Or...maybe not.

Ben felt his pulse begin to speed up as his eyes fell on the final page of Savage's translated pages, the last four lines in particular. The first thing he noticed was that the lines didn't make any sense, which definitely wasn't consistent with the rest of Beale's journal entries. So the fact that these meaningless strings of words appeared on that page could not be a coincidence, and Ben was sure there was a message for him in those lines. He read them over and over again, trying to piece them together to figure out the message, but he kept getting stuck. And it always seemed to be the beginning or the end of the line that threw him off.

"Wait a second…" Ben whispered excitedly as he considered a possibility. "Maybe some of these words aren't necessary…"

With trembling hands, Ben placed his fingers over the four words at the beginning and end of each line and stared down at the remaining words. Slowly letting out a deep breath, his lips curved up in a subtle smile, and he focused on the words on the page.

_you've uncovered the words, but not the key  
__what you really seek is not so deeply hidden  
__the answer is still bound within the letters  
__don't overlook what's right in front of you _

Beale was a smart man. Of that Ben was completely convinced. For days now, he and Savage had been working tirelessly on discovering the secret message in the variety of languages in the journal, and if what Ben was assuming these last lines meant were actually true, nothing actually needed to be translated to begin with. For most people, the realization would have been infuriating, but the sheer brilliance of it just made Ben laugh out loud.

The humor was short-lived however, as Ben remembered there was very little time left before the team was planning to depart. He needed to figure this clue out and fast.

"Ok, one line at a time," Ben muttered to himself. "The key is still covered. So it's still hidden. But…Not so deeply hidden…hmm…" He picked up the journal from the floor shook the pages to see if anything was loose and would fall out. Not a likely option, but Ben was ready to try just about anything. No such luck.

"The answer is bound within the letters," Ben said softly. "Bound within the letters. Bound. Within. The letters…"

Ben rubbed his temples as he thought, slowly turning page after page to find some sort of key that was 'bound' between the letters. He sighed, wishing Abigail was there to help him figure this out; she could always direct his thoughts in another way if he got too stuck in his own mind.

"You're on your own Ben, so forget that," he told himself. "Bound…bound…another word for bound. Trapped? Trapped within the letters. How about restrained? No…confined… enclosed…_enclosed_!"

Ben jumped up from the desk and began pacing, stroking his chin in thought as he wrestled with the clue.

"The key is covered," he muttered over and over to himself. "Key is covered, bound by letters…enclosed by letters…enclosed _in_ the letters? In the letters… But what if the letters aren't the actual letters…not a, b, c, d, e letters…but the entries themselves. Enclosed within the entries. Key is covered within the entries…covered. _Cover?_" Ben reached for the journal again and turned it over and over again in his hands, carefully running his fingers over the front and back of the leather cover for any unusual stitching or any indication of something hidden.

"Don't overlook what is right in _front_ of you," Ben said, smiling triumphantly as he opened the journal to the inside cover. "The key is still covered…front cover."

"Bound within the letters. It's in the binding…it has to be…" he concluded, meticulously examining the inside of the cover.

In the lower inside corner, Ben was able to loosen the stitching that bonded the leather cover to the actual notebook. As he peeled it away from the cover, a folded piece of paper immediately slipped out from the inside of the binding and Ben couldn't help grinning with boyish anticipation. Even under the less-than-desirable circumstances, the thrill of discovery still gave him a rush of excitement that tingled throughout his entire body.

His hand was shaking as he picked up the piece of paper and unfolded it, only to discover that it was actually three sheets of folded paper. English. Thank God. As Ben scanned over the pages, he instantly recognized the words on the pages.

"President Washington's farewell address," he admired, sighing nostalgically as he read the first few lines of the famous speech. Could this have been what Beale used to encrypt one, or both, of the other letters?

Why not? He used the Declaration of Independence for the second cipher; using another historical document would be completely plausible. So many have already been tried though; how could this one have been overlooked?

_Maybe it really isn't a hoax_, Ben considered.

With a sudden rush of vigor, he returned to his desk and pulled out the Beale ciphers. He placed the first cipher, the one that supposedly gave the exact location of the treasure, next to the copy of Washington's farewell speech and began counting words according to the corresponding number in the cipher. As he counted, he made markings on the Washington document at every fifty letters so he didn't have to start from scratch every time.

In the background, Ben could hear things beginning to heat up downstairs. Ian and Savage were shouting back and forth at each other, and every now and then Ciara got into the mix. He tried to listen to see what the commotion was about, but couldn't actually distinguish what was being said.

On one hand, Ben was glad that they all seemed to be losing their cool with each other—less patience and more frustration would lead to more slip-ups in their game plan. On the other hand, it might also lead to more rash and reckless decision making. Ben pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind and attempted to block out the noise downstairs, returning his complete focus to the cipher in front of him.

Deciphering codes this way could be extremely time consuming—and time wasn't something Ben had much to spare. Under different circumstances, he would have enjoyed the process of this quest, but as the minutes continued to tick away he just felt his anxiety level increasing.

A couple hours passed, and Ben was only a third of the way through the cipher. Fortunately, he was forming words, which at least meant that he was correct in assuming the farewell speech was used to encode the first cipher—the one the Get-Along-Gang was really interested in.

"234," Ben said softly, counting back sixteen words from his mark at 250. "Motives." He wrote down the letter 'M' under that number. "18…Of. O. 55…Voice…V…" Ben wrote down those two letters next. "131…Earlier. And 234 again. M."

"M-o-v-e-m," he spelled out. When the next three letters turned out to be a, d, and e, Ben felt his pulse begin to quicken with nervous anticipation. _Move made_? The treasure was moved?

Just as quickly as they were raised, his spirits were dampened as he continued to decode that sentence, revealing the words 'to,' 'Bedford,' and half of the word 'County.'"

Ben huffed loudly in frustration. "We already know it's in Bedford County," he mumbled to the pages in front of him.

"N…T…Y…" Ben wrote down, finishing the word 'county.' "Alright, next. 324. Peculiar. P. 829…Appellation. A. Wait…."

He paused, looking curiously at the two letters he had just deciphered.

"It shouldn't be PA…it should be _VA_…" he contemplated, going back to the speech and recounting to the 324th word. Peculiar. He counted again. Same word. However, the next word, the 325th word, was Values. Beale could have easily made a mistake. This type of coding was very tedious. Mistakes were quite common.

But maybe it wasn't a mistake.

"Move made to Bedford County, PA," Ben read aloud, pondering the possibility.

And then something else clicked.

The letter to Robert Morriss that had been included with the three ciphertexts said that a location for the treasure had been chosen, but it was found to be unsuitable and a new location was decided upon. Ben tried to think back to the exact wording of the letter.

_It was finally decided that it should be sent to Virginia under my charge, and securely buried in a cave near Buford's tavern, in the county of Bedford. _

"The cave was found unsuitable because it was used by farmers," Ben explained out loud, as though he was actually telling the story to Riley and Abigail. He massaged his temples, trying to fight back the unavoidable exhaustion that was setting in and tried to remember exactly what the next part of the letter said. Something like…

_We soon selected a better place, and to this the treasure was safely transferred._

"It just said a 'better place,'—not a better place _in Virginia_," he reasoned. "What if it was a different state?"

Ben's mind was racing now, historical facts and figures and events all flooding his brainwaves. He let his head fall into his hands and closed his eyes as he thought. If his memory served him correctly, Bedford County in Pennsylvania was along the southern border of the state, just west of Gettysburg. He'd been through the county numerous times when he'd visited the historical battlegrounds.

Could there be another Buford's Tavern located there? Or even at one time was located there? What were the chances of that? Two Buford's Taverns located in two Bedford Counties in two different states? That seemed very unlikely.

Ben stood up from the desk and began to pace around the room again, trying to figure out his next move. Did he tell the creeps that the treasure might be in a completely different state? Or did he take his chances and pretend to have figured something out about its location in Virginia, thus buying him more time? If he told them it was in Pennsylvania, and they found it, would they really just let him go back to his normal life? Doubtful.

One thing was certain, though. Ben wouldn't be able to figure out whether there was a Buford's Tavern in Pennsylvania without actually going to the county itself to find out about its history, or gaining access to the internet in order to try searching for that information. And there was no way they'd be letting him have internet access.

His eyelids were beginning to feel heavier and he'd suddenly developed a headache that he knew he'd be facing without any aspirin. He needed sleep. Even just a couple hours.

Ben walked over to the desk and grabbed the pages that he'd found hidden in the journal, folded them up and stuck them in his pocket. He didn't want to take any chances that they might come up while he was asleep and discover those. He then kicked off his shoes and lay down on the mattress, looked at his picture of Abigail for a long while, then finally drifted off to sleep.

........

It's amazing how quiet and calm an airport can be in the middle of the night. No little shops open, no places to get food or coffee were open, and really, not very many people were even in the entire building. Occasionally someone would walk by; you could hear their footsteps and the rolling wheels of their luggage echoing off the walls for several minutes before they even passed by.

Abigail was wide awake. Her stomach was all tied up in knots, she was too anxious and too fearful to even close her eyes. This of course made every minute seem like an eternity. She worried about Ben, what was happening to him, why he hadn't found a way to get away from whoever or whatever. She tried not to let her mind wander off too far, as it never seemed to take her to a place where Ben was safe and unharmed.

Riley, on the other hand, had fallen asleep almost immediately after settling into one of the terminal's uncomfortable chairs and resting his head against Abigail's shoulder. He tried to assure her that Ben would be fine because he was Ben after all. Abigail nodded in agreement but felt less certain. Ben wasn't indestructible.

As time continued to pass, Abigail actually found herself becoming more restless, not tired. It was nearly 3:30 in the morning. In two hours, they'd be able to board their flight to Chicago. In three hours, they'd be on their way.

She was becoming more focused on the annoying pins-and-needles feeling developing in her arm from Riley being against it for so long, and was about to shove him away when she heard some distant footsteps. She looked up and several seconds later, watched as a uniformed officer walked by. He smiled at her unsuspectingly, certainly without any idea of what she was going through, but the friendly gesture was a small comfort anyway. It served as a reminder that there were people out there who could help them if they needed it.

She flashed back to the phone call she received from the Chicago officer. Officer Kelly Sullivan was really who she said she was—Riley had checked it out on the Chicago police department's website. Why would a police officer lie about Ben's death? That's the one thing that had Abigail still on edge about; as much as she didn't want to believe it, it was possible that he really had been killed in that cab explosion. Maybe that was the intention of whoever set up those cameras in their house. But why? Who would want Ben dead?


	20. Chapter 20

**Thank you** to all my faithful and loyal readers and reviewers! :D

One warning about this chapter: there is one use of a word which some may find offensive and unpleasant to the ear. Feel free to substitute it with any word you might like better there.

* * *

Ben shot up like a rocket in his bed, wide-eyed with fear as he cautiously glanced around the dark, silent room. His heart was racing, his head was pounding, and his shirt was damp with sweat. Just a nightmare. He could hardly remember the details now that he was awake, but it had obviously been terrifying.

"I don't need this now," Ben mumbled under his breath, raking his hands tensely through his hair. He looked up at the window above and saw the wires framing it, almost daring him to try to escape. Desperation was beginning to override practicality in Ben's mind. He needed a way out.

He stood up and moved closer to the window, peering up at it curiously. If Riley were here, he might know what to do to break the current of electricity running through the wires without injuring himself. But Riley wasn't here and Ben was no electrician. He wouldn't be able to get out of that window without touching a wire, that much he knew. However…he thought maybe he could break it without touching them. And then maybe someone would walk by the building and he could ask them for help. Maybe a cop would stroll by unassumingly and get the chance to arrest all four of them at once. A promotion would certainly be in order after that.

And then again, maybe no one would walk by, Ian would stop up to the room for a check-up and realize what Ben had done, then his four adversaries could take turns beating him to a pulp, then either finish him off or drag him off to some other unidentified location.

Such pleasant imagery.

It was risky, but Ben was running out of options. It was apparent that his foes really didn't have much intention of letting him out alive anyway, so really, what harm was there in trying?

He went over to the desk and pulled the old wooden chair over to the wall, right below the window. Then he looked around the room for something he could break it with. The best he found was a metal rod behind the desk that looked like it might have been part of a lamp that could attach to the desk and provide better lighting for work. Not ideal by any means, but the bare-bones room didn't have much to offer in the way of window-breaking items.

Ben looked at the metal bar, then up at the window, and sighed heavily. This would never work. But what option did he have? He took a deep breath and stepped up onto the chair. Now at eye-level with the window—and with the wires charged with 500 volts of electricity—he really wished there was another option. Of course the rod had to be metal too. One slip of the hand, one little brush of metal against wire, and Ben would probably look like a giant firecracker being launched across the room. He looked down at his shaking arm. That didn't serve as much encouragement.

"Ok…" Ben tried to persuade himself. "Here we go…" Slowly he lifted the rod toward the window. His arm was still shaking and it seemed the more he tried to control it, the worse it got. He brought his arm back and was frozen in that position for what seemed like forever, trying to make the final decision to just do it.

_Hit the window, Ben. Now. …. Ok, now. … False alarm. Now! … Just hit the damn window, NOW!_ He screamed at himself in his mind.

"Are you _fucking crazy_, man?!?" cried a voice from behind Ben. This time it wasn't his own, though at first he wasn't completely sure because he'd asked the same question a good number of times in his own mind.

Ben was startled by the voice, and lost his balance on the chair, leaning back farther and farther until he had to jump off. He turned around quickly and saw Dex standing in the doorway, pale as a ghost as he stared at Ben with wide eyes, full of shock and disbelief.

"Do you know what would happen if you did that?" Dex hissed at Ben, looking over his shoulder to make sure he hadn't said anything loud enough to attract any of the others upstairs.

Ben lay the bar down on the chair. "I didn't realize you cared, Dex. Thanks for your concern, but I'm pretty much a dead man any way you look at it, so why not try to get the upper hand, right?"

"Man, you really are an idiot!" Dex snapped, shaking his head in a puzzled sort of way. He let out a long, deep breath before anxiously running his hands over his face and through his shaggy ash brown hair, trying to dispel the thoughts of what would have happened to _him_ if Ben had decided to electrocute himself and Ian didn't have his clues figured out yet. "One slip and your so-called _upper hand_, and your other hand for that matter, would have been blown sky high! Ian said you'd do some crazy things if you got backed in a corner, but what the hell, Gates? That's just damn stupid." He lunged forward and grabbed the metal rod from the desk before Ben had a chance to reach for it again. "Just figure out the clues and go back to your life."

As Dex turned to go back into the hall, Ben chuckled softly, shaking his head in amusement at the young man's last comment. Apparently the laughter must have irritated Dex, because he whipped his head around and scowled at Ben, waiting for an explanation.

"You really are a novice, aren't you?" Ben questioned with a knowing smirk.

Dex looked at Ben with raised eyebrows and glanced up at his work over the window.

"Oh I don't mean that," Ben replied. "You're obviously quite gifted in the field of technology and electronics and…" He gestured with his hand toward the window. "Whatever that might be. Developing explosives?" He paused and took a couple steps toward the boy. "I mean you obviously have no idea what you've gotten yourself into, and who you've aligned yourself with. This isn't a game to these people, Dex. It's not going to work out as nice and clean as you think—with me figuring out the codes, the team going to find the treasure, splitting it between the four of you, and letting me go on back to my normal life. You can't honestly believe that's what is going to happen."

Dex just stared at Ben without response. His mind flashed back to the scene downstairs just a few hours prior. Ian's entire attitude toward him had completely flipped when the cameras had been disabled; he threatened him and violently shoved him into a wall.

"Just shut up, alright?" Dex grumbled and turned away from Ben.

Ben sighed. Now what? With that plan obviously not happening, he didn't have any other ideas. He could hear the chair in the hallway shifting around, probably Dex trying to make himself comfortable. With a shrug of defeat, Ben brought the chair near the window back over to the desk and sat back down. At least he could keep his mind occupied by trying to make a connection between Bedford County, Pennsylvania and Buford's Tavern.

"Riley, do a search for Buford's Tavern in Pennsylvania," Ben instructed.

He hadn't completely lost his mind so much that he actually believed Riley was in the room with him, but he thought maybe if he could go through the steps as he would with his counterpart, he might be able to figure something out. Only problem was, he could do all the instructing he wanted—Riley still wasn't there to give him any results.

"This is ridiculous," Ben groaned in frustration. "How am I supposed to know how many 'Buford's Taverns' there are and where they're located? I don't have a long list of 'historical bars' stored up in my mind." He tapped restlessly on the desk with his fingers, wishing that something would miraculously come to the forefront of his mind.

_Let's assume Buford's Tavern is named for its owner—Buford. Do we know any Buford's in history? Maybe that owned a bar on the side?_ Ben moved his neck from side to side, trying to loosen the stiff knots that had formed there. _But maybe… Buford didn't actually own the tavern…maybe he was just known for frequenting it._ Ben pondered the new consideration. That would make it even more difficult, as it would mean there actually wasn't a bar named for Buford, only one that Buford used to go to. The tavern itself could be named anything.

"Wait!" Ben exclaimed, a little too loudly to be talking to no one. He glanced over at the door to make sure his outburst didn't attract one of his "teammates" to see what it was all about.

"Bedford County in Pennsylvania is near Gettysburg," Ben whispered. "There _was_ a General John Buford at Gettysburg…a union cavalry officer...a key player in that battle. There's a bronze statue of him there," Ben recalled seeing on his numerous visits to the battleground. "Could that be the Buford? He would have definitely been well-known enough to be able to be associated with a local tavern if he was a frequenter of one…"

Ben glanced down at Beale's translated first letter and sighed. "The timing is off though. That's the only thing that doesn't make sense. If Beale supposedly buried this treasure in 1820, General Buford wasn't even born yet."

He stood up and started pacing again as he considered the possibilities. "But…the pamphlet that made these letters public wasn't released until 1885—and Buford was dead by then. Is it possible that the dates in the pamphlet were altered—pushed 45 years back or so—to throw off individuals who weren't Beale's intended recipients?" Ben rolled his eyes at the irony, and looked toward the door. "People like these idiots perhaps?"

It was an interesting twist to be sure. Unfortunately, Ben was powerless to do anything about it without access to the outside, and he definitely wanted to keep this information a secret to use as leverage later if it came down to that.

What he really needed was an ally. Riley and Abigail were slowly putting some of the pieces of his disappearance together, but they'd only be able to get so far without any word from Ben. If he could just contact them somehow…

Ben could hear Dex shifting around in the hallway, still grumbling to himself. Ian and Savage had really let him have it downstairs over the fact that Riley had discovered the cameras, and Ciara had maintained from the very beginning that Dex was too young and too inexperienced to be involved. Maybe the young man's confidence in the three of them was beginning to wane. Of course, that wouldn't mean that he'd be willing to help Ben, but he might be easier to reason with now that he'd had a taste of Ian's bad side.

It was worth a shot.

Ben quietly walked over to the door and sat down on the floor, leaning back against the wall. The door was open just slightly from when Dex had left earlier, and Ben was able to see him stationed just outside the door. He was hunched over in the chair and held his head in his hands. It was hard to tell if he was just tired or if he didn't feel good or if he was upset. All three options indicated a weakened emotional state, however, and Ben was intent on using that to his advantage.

"They gave you the late shift, huh?" Ben asked softly after a few silent minutes of just observing the kid.

"Whatever," Dex mumbled, turning slightly in his chair so his back was more toward Ben.

Ben let a few more silent moments pass between the two, pondering if there was any real chance he'd be able to reason with this angry, misguided youth. Especially when the source of his anger, at least in part, was Ben.

"What happened downstairs?" Ben enquired, pretending he had no idea. "All I could hear from up here was some stifled yelling."

Dex remained silent.

Ben sighed heavily and leaned in closer to the door. "Listen, kid, I know you have no reason to trust me or believe a word that comes out of my mouth. So feel free to let this go in one ear and out the other, but I'm telling you for your own good and for the sake of your future—be really careful with this crew, Dex. I know them all much better than you, and can guarantee you they are all motivated by one thing only – self interest. You may not see it now, but you're being used for your skills, Dex. Just watch your back when Ian doesn't need you any longer."

"Shut up," Dex said softly, though his tone seemed more defeated than angry, indicating that on some level, he knew what Ben was saying was true.

Ben was fairly accustomed to taking orders from his captors by this point, so he shut up willingly. He'd given Dex enough to chew on for a few minutes anyway.

It was quiet, all but for the ticking of Dex's watch and the occasional creak in the floor from him shifting his weight in the chair. Ben sighed and leaned his head against the wall, looking upward to the ceiling. He was hoping the teen would just say something—_anything_—and Ben could finally engage him in a conversation. Obviously there was a little stubborn pride passed down from father to son in this case.

Several more minutes went by before another sound could be heard. A soft sniffle. Ben tuned in. Did he have a cold? Allergies? Could he be crying? Emotionally, he was breaking and Ben knew this might be his best shot.

"Were you close to your father?" Ben asked. He knew the question could potentially end any chance of communication between the two, but he also knew it might force Dex to address his anger toward Ben.

What he got in response was a heavy sigh and another sniffle.

Ben cleared his throat as indication that he was about to continue. "I uh…I think deep down he was a good man," he said with a hint of uneasiness. "Just let greed get the best of him."

He paused, waiting to see whether Dex would respond. When he didn't, Ben took it as permission to continue. "I want you to know that I tried to get him out too. I didn't want anyone to be left behind and that's the truth. I don't know what Ian told you about it, but I was there Dex, I know how it unfolded."

A deafening silence hung in the air for what seemed like forever. Ben had just about given up on getting any kind of response out of him, when suddenly Dex shifted his chair again and this time moved it closer to the opening in the door.

"No…I wouldn't say we were close," Dex finally stated with some hesitancy, a clear bitterness in his tone. "He was never around."

Ben glanced sideways out the door at the teenager, who was now sitting on the edge of the chair staring down at his shoes. Ben thought back to his own childhood, about the many years when his relationship with his own father could be described as strained at best. It was improving now, but it took so long. Dex would never have that chance, and somehow that made Ben feel sympathetic toward him.

"I was supposed to go this time," Dex revealed to Ben. "He promised. Of course, he promised that when I was about five years old. He used to tell me stories about the legend of Cibola before I'd go to sleep when I was younger—about how he was gonna find it someday, and how I could help him. But that was before he lost interest in his family. I guess 12 years later, he forgot about that promise."

"Maybe he knew it would be too dangerous," Ben suggested.

"Maybe he just never kept his word anyway, so why did I believe that he actually would this time?" Dex snapped back with resentment.

"I'm sorry," Ben said sincerely. "Mitch never mentioned a son."

"Wouldn't have changed anything," he remarked.

Another few minutes passed silently as Ben thought back to that fateful day; the water rising, filling the room and swallowing up anything or anyone who also happened to be inside. The people Ben loved most were there with him, which Ben wasn't sure he was thankful or regretful for. If death was imminent, he at least got to see them all one last time before it happened. It seemed impossible that they would all get out alive, although Ben had every intention of making that happen. Being washed to the other side of the wall, alive and safe in Abigail's arms, was genuinely bittersweet for him. Someone was left behind. He couldn't make sure that they all made it out safely.

Ben decided this was a good time to change the subject.

"So, you're uh…you're pretty good with computers, huh?" he asked.

"I guess," Dex muttered.

"I've got a friend like that," Ben told him.

"I know. The scrawny twit," Dex recalled from the pictures that Ian had showed them. "At least that's what Ciara called him."

Ben rolled his eyes. "Of course she did."

"Did you really date her, man? She's kinda scary," Dex remarked with curiosity.

"Not one of my better decisions," Ben answered, wanting to get off of that subject right away. "So, um…how is it that you got mixed up with Ian anyway?"

"He needed my help and offered to pay me well," Dex told him matter-of-factly.

Ben snickered. Poor kid. Naïve enough to believe that Ian would really give him anything.

"Were you the one who set up the surveillance cameras in my house?"

Dex lifted his head and grinned, obviously proud of his work. "Yeah that was me."

"How? Where are the cameras?" Ben was genuinely fascinated.

"Simple," he replied. "If you know what you're doing, that is. Wireless technology is great, huh? All I did was monitor your habits for a few days so I knew what your general routine was. First the girl left in the morning, and a little while later—most days at least—you left next. I knew there was a good amount of time between when you left and when either of you usually came back home, so I didn't even need to rush. All I had to do was disarm your alarm system—it's a pretty good one by the way, most people wouldn't be able to get by it without setting it off—let myself in, set up the cameras—they're in the lights, by the way—synchronize them with the computer monitors, reset your alarm and leave."

Ben sat there dumbfounded. Stealthy kid. He would have never thought to look in the lights—who would? Well, Riley obviously did. Maybe you just had to have the type of mind the two of them had. Under different circumstances, _much_ different circumstances, Ben could see Riley and Dex as friends, probably getting into all kinds of trouble.

"You know," Ben began thoughtfully, "you could really do a lot with your talent and expertise, Dex. But not if you're sitting in a prison cell—or worse. You should get away from Ian while you can."

Dex laughed bitterly as he considered Ben's advice. "You really think I can do that? Just walk out the door and tell them I quit?" He paused and took a deep breath. "You're not the only one trapped here, Gates."

_Interesting_.

Ben pondered Dex's last statement, which admittedly had him more than a bit curious. Maybe he understood the way Ian operated better than Ben initially thought.

Ben sat silently against the wall, choosing his next words carefully and going over them in his mind a number of times before deciding to speak them aloud. It was a long shot, but somehow Ben had managed to engage this kid in conversation—even getting him to reveal information that made him somewhat vulnerable. His mind might be open enough to at least consider Ben's proposal.

"Listen Dex," Ben began quietly, non-threateningly, "I know you have no reason to believe me, and considering the fact that I'm in a pretty powerless position here it might not even seem practical to believe me, but if you trust me we can get out of this together."

"Are you crazy?!" Dex asked incredulously. "Why would I trust you? You think I'm dumb enough to believe that after everything that's already happened, you want to help me?"

Ben took a deep breath and cleared his throat before responding. "I told you before. I know Ian and the others, and they're using you. Ian persuaded you to help him by playing on your emotions. You trusted Ian, and believe me, I know how convincing he can be. I don't think that you fully understood what getting involved here would mean."

Dex sighed as he let Ben's words sink in.

"Besides," Ben continued when it was apparent that Dex wasn't going to respond, "I'm the only one here that actually is trustworthy. I'm a man of my word, Dex. I will help you out of this if you help me."

"The same way you helped my father?" Dex remarked sarcastically.

"That was an unfortunate tragedy," Ben said. "I did all that I could."

After a few more tense, silent moments, Dex sniffled one last time, then turned to the side and pushed the door open a little more. He looked Ben square in the face and as Ben's eyes locked with his, a certain unspoken bond was instantly formed. Never in the last few days did this computer genius seem more like just a scared, awkward teenager than right at that moment. Strangely enough, Ben suddenly felt slightly protective toward him; maybe because he reminded him a little bit of Riley, maybe because he was so misguided and missed growing up with a strong fatherly presence. Dex's eyes showed a hesitant trust, and that was all that Ben could ask for at this point. He didn't believe that Dex would simply flip-flop sides without any reluctance.

"What's your plan?" Dex asked cautiously in a quiet tone.

"I don't have one yet," Ben admitted. "I have people that could help us if I could get word to them somehow…" He left his statement open-ended to see if Dex would offer a solution to that problem. But he just sat there, which meant Ben would have to ask him.

"Would you let me use your phone?" Ben asked.

Dex's eyes widened like the request was absolutely insane and he scoffed at Ben. "No way. Ian would _kill_ me instantly if he found out."

"How about a quick text message?" Ben tried.

Dex shook his head. "I can't. It's too risky."

Ben sighed heavily and ran a hand through his hair. He was so close. He was feeling desperate; he needed to get word to Riley and Abigail _now_.

Perhaps another approach would strike a chord with the kid.

"You know they told my girlfriend that I'm dead, right?" Ben asked.

Dex nodded, and glanced at him apologetically.

"Someday, Dex, you're going to meet someone who becomes your whole world; someone you'd do anything for," Ben started, trying not to wander off too far on a tangent. "That's how I got into this mess in the first place; Ian threatened her safety as well as the safety of everyone else I love. Now, as far as I'm concerned, Ian broke his promise that she would be left out of this if I cooperated. I can't even imagine what she went through after they made that phone call to her to tell her I blew up in that cab. I wouldn't consider that 'leaving her out of this.'"

"Weren't you the one who was just saying that Ian can't be trusted and isn't a man of his word?" Dex challenged.

Ben nodded. "You're right. But under the circumstances, I didn't have a choice. If I didn't agree to help him, I knew he would come after her." He paused and sighed despondently. "I was just getting ready to ask her to marry me, had the ring and everything…"

Dex shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "You'll still be able to…after all of this is finally over."

"Not if he takes what he needs from me and decides to kill me."

Dex let his head fall in his hands and he gripped the ends of it tightly, letting out a frustrated groan. Internally he was conflicted. That much was obvious. He didn't want to make another wrong move.

"One text message," Ben pleaded. "Just to tell her I'm alive and I love her."

"Then what?"

"What do you mean?" Ben asked in confusion.

"Well how does that help us?" Dex wondered.

"If they know I'm alive, they'll find me. That much I know," Ben assured. "If we move quick enough, we might even be able to get the authorities to pay a little visit to Ian and company before we even leave Chicago."

Dex gasped and his eyes grew wide with fear. "What!? No authorities! I'm part of their team—I don't want to go to jail!"

"I could make sure you wouldn't be arrested."

"How?"

"Friends in high places, Dex," Ben replied. "Unfortunately, if you have no access to the outside world, those friends can't really be utilized, can they?"

Dex sat still, silently contemplating Ben's request. Would it be safer to trust Ben? What would Ian do if he discovered the betrayal? Dex had no idea what his best move was, and it was causing his head to pound.

"Still have a headache?" Dex asked Ben.

Ben felt his progress with the youth completely diminish with his sudden changed in subject. "Yeah, actually I do," he mumbled.

"I have one too," Dex said. "I'm gonna go downstairs and get some aspirin. I'll bring you back some—since the others would rather let you suffer."

Ben looked at the young man curiously, but was grateful for his gesture of kindness. "Thank you."

"I'll be gone for three minutes, so don't try any funny business," Dex instructed. "Understand?"

"Yeah yeah," Ben placated. "You took my bar away anyway. I have nothing else to break the window."

"You're going to be unsupervised for three minutes," Dex repeated slowly, staring intently at Ben. Suddenly his cell phone dropped from his pocket to the floor and Ben looked at it in disbelief. He glanced back up at Dex questioningly.

"You don't have much time," Dex concluded and walked off toward the stairway.

Ben quickly grabbed the cell phone and keyed in Abigail's cell phone number, then thought better of it and keyed in Riley's instead. A message to Abigail would have been filled with guilt-ridden apologies and declarations of love; there was no time for that now. He closed his eyes in concentration as he thought back to the car ride from the airport to the apartment building, trying to bring forth the figures he'd stored for later use, and began feverishly typing:

_Riley-it's Ben-need your help. Lot:R278L741L7R406R222L962R355punk. Tell Abby I love her xxx. Do NOT bring her along. Do not respond._

He barely had time to hit the send button before he heard footsteps coming back up the stairs. After getting the message that his text had been sent successfully, Ben snapped the phone shut and returned it to its place on the floor in the hall.

Dex returned just seconds later and let out an exaggerated sigh of relief. "Oh there it is," he remarked, bending down to pick up his cell phone. "Thought I lost this."

He turned toward Ben and handed him a bottle of water and two aspirin.

"Thank you," Ben said sincerely, looking Dex in the eyes so he knew that Ben wasn't only referring to the water and medicine.

Dex nodded. "I know nothing about this – if Ian finds out…"

"I'm not gonna say anything," Ben assured. "And as long as you don't say anything either, he's not going to find out."

"You better not be trying to pull one over on me, Gates," Dex said softly but sternly, still looking at Ben with cautious uncertainty.

"I understand your doubt," Ben replied. "But right now I can't give you anything more than my word. When all is said and done, though…well, I won't forget this favor. Let's just leave it at that, ok?"

It almost appeared as though Dex started to smile, but Ben couldn't be sure because he looked down at the floor almost immediately. Ben breathed a sigh of relief as he made his way back to the desk to decide on what information he'd be telling the crew and what information he'd be keeping secret. However, the more he tried to concentrate, the less he was able to. He'd been given a glimmer of hope in a very unexpected way.

Now he just prayed that Riley would understand his message and figure out where he was located before Ian decided it was time to vacate the premises.


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N - As always, thank you for reading and for your kind and encouraging reviews! And just to show my sincere appreciation, I shall give you an entire chapter featuring Riley (and Abigail). **

* * *

Flight number 2187 touched down on the runway at O'Hare Airport about fifteen minutes later than expected. The bright orange sun was just beginning to break through the thick blanket of fog that was wrapped around the city that morning, warm glowing rays unveiling the spring of a picture-perfect day. As the plane crawled toward the jetway, Abigail gently shook Riley, who had somehow managed to fall asleep again after he ate his—and her—breakfast.

"Riley, time to go," Abigail said firmly, pulling his arm toward her. His head was still resting against the window and he muttered something in a low tone, trying to resist her attempts to disturb his nap.

The Boeing 737 came to a stop and passengers began scrambling to get their baggage from the overhead compartments.

"Riley!"

"What now Abby?" Riley whined, his eyes still closed as he made a weak attempt to lift his head and look in her direction.

"We're at the airport," Abigail told him. "The plane just landed. Now let's go!"

Riley's eyes suddenly snapped wide open and he turned to Abigail. "Well why didn't you say that in the first place?" He asked with a sense of urgency, fiddling with the seatbelt that had gotten twisted with all of his moving around. Once he freed himself from the seatbelt, he quickly stood up and banged his head on the overhead compartment.

"Oww," Riley moaned, rubbing the top of his head.

Abigail tried to hide her giggling. "Are you ok?"

"I'm fine," he grumbled.

The pair finally made it off the plane and through the gate into the crowded airport. People were rushing by in every direction, running to catch a connecting flight, trying to make their way to baggage claim, or hurrying to greet loved ones returning from a trip. Abigail had stopped at one of the airline counters to ask where the customer service desk was and was promptly told of three separate locations in the airport for customer service.

Naturally.

Riley and Abigail made their way through the airport to the customer service area that was most centrally located, figuring that would be the most logical place to keep items that had been lost and found. Riley, who still seemed a bit tired, was content to let Abigail lead the way while he followed along—that is, until he noticed the young woman at the service counter.

"Can I help you?" She cheerfully addressed Abigail, a warm and inviting smile playing on her lips.

"Yes, we spoke to someone yesterday. My—" Abigail began to explain but suddenly sensed some urgent movement behind her, which interrupted her thoughts.

Riley abruptly surged forward and gently, but firmly, pushed Abigail to the side. Now very much wide awake and alert, he flashed a smile at the pretty, long-haired brunette with bright green eyes, and leaned in toward her, casually resting his elbow on the counter.

"Hi," Riley said, glancing down at her nametag, "Alicia. Pretty name for a pretty girl."

Abigail rolled her eyes and laughed softly.

"Thank you," Alicia said, giggling at his flirting. "Is there something I can help you with?"

"Yes, actually there is," Riley replied, about to continue where Abigail had paused, but something about the girl was absolutely captivating and his thoughts took an entirely different direction. "Are you from this area?"

In his mind, Riley gave himself a slap upside the head, wishing he'd come up with something a little more clever. _Are you from this area?_ Of course she is. Why would she be working here?

She looked at him curiously, but not as though she thought the question was completely absurd. "Yes…why?"

"Hmm," Riley considered. "Maybe I should fly in to Chicago more often..."

"We're looking for a lost phone," Abigail interjected impatiently, and Alicia reluctantly turned her attention away from Riley.

"When did you lose it?" She asked.

"Friday. We spoke to someone yesterday and they were putting it aside for us until we got here—"

"Name?" Alicia asked with a knowing smile.

"Ben Gates," Riley replied.

Alicia looked up at him with raised eyebrows. "No you're not."

Riley's jaw dropped. "Actually, I am—"

"_Actually_, you're not," Alicia told him pointedly. She smiled flirtatiously at him as she leaned closer. "I'm a fan."

"Oh…" Riley said, slightly disappointed that the cute girl was yet another fan of famed treasure hunter Benjamin Gates.

"We have your book in a couple of the stores here, _Riley_," she explained, winking subtly at him. She glanced at Abigail, then looked back at Riley and lowered her voice to a whisper. "Besides, you're much cuter than he is."

Riley grinned, suddenly losing sight of why they were even there in the first place. He even managed to block out the stern look he was getting from Abigail, who had her hands on her hips and was tapping her foot on the floor with annoyance. It wasn't until she loudly cleared her throat that Riley came back down to earth and looked over at her.

"The phone?" She reminded him.

"Oh, right…ok," Riley replied, his mind still a bit flustered. He turned back to Alicia and smiled again. "Ben lost his phone. He's a little embarrassed to admit that, so he sent us to retrieve it for him. When we called, they said it was here at the desk."

Alicia nodded. "Let me go check for you."

When she disappeared, Riley turned to Abigail with an irritated scowl.

"Abigail! Couldn't that have waited a couple minutes?"

"I'm sorry, Riley, but in case you've forgotten, _your best friend Ben_ is in trouble. I'm sure she'll be here when we get back and you can flirt all you want then."

Riley breathed an exasperated sigh and crossed his arms over his chest. "You know, _Abigail_, it's not every day that I run into a cute girl who knows about my book, recognizes _me_ as opposed to _only_ Ben, and thinks I'm the better looking one—even though I think that's fairly obvious…"

Abigail rolled her eyes. "I understand that, Riley, but under the circumstances—"

"Yeah, yeah," he muttered. "Ben's in trouble."

Abigail narrowed her eyes and glowered at him, a look that Riley had come to associate with getting a scolding. "Riley Poole, _you know_ if the situation were reversed, Ben would not be hanging around an airport flirting with women while you were stuck God knows where with God knows who being put through God knows what!"

"No, he'd just bring her along for the ride," Riley replied with amusement, thinking back to how Abigail had gotten sucked into their little Declaration dilemma. "That way, he could flirt with her the whole time while still achieving his ultimate goal, and of course, she'd be on hand through the entire thing to see his amazing heroics."

Abigail shook her head. "You are impossible."

Riley and Abigail were interrupted by a subtle cough from behind the counter. Alicia had returned, holding Ben's phone out toward them.

"Here's his phone," Alicia said.

Riley reached forward and took it, then handed it to Abigail so she could occupy herself for a few minutes while he thanked Alicia.

"So, you've read my book?" Riley asked her.

"Not entirely," she admitted. "But I do have it, and I'm a little more than half way through it."

"Well that's better than _some people_," Riley remarked, glancing out the corner of his eye at Abigail, who was too consumed with looking through Ben's phone to even hear his comment. "So…do you ever come out to the D.C. area?"

"Occasionally," she told Riley. "I have a brother who lives there."

Riley's eyes lit up. "Really!?"

Alicia laughed. "Yes. He works for the government."

"No wonder you know about us," Riley said under his breath, then grabbed a business card from the desk. He quickly jotted his cell phone number down and handed it to her. "Next time you're in the area, give me a call…maybe we can get some dinner and discuss my book—" Riley winced, wondering if that sounded a little too arrogant. "Or whatever else might interest you…"

Alicia giggled, nervously twirling a lock of her hair around her finger. She met his gaze and smiled. "Ok."

Riley felt like jumping up and down with excitement, but thought that might make him look a little too desperate. A few other people had started to line up at the customer service desk anyway, so Riley decided it was a good note to depart on. Abigail thanked her again for her help and grabbed Riley's wrist, briskly pulling him away so they could look at Ben's phone together.

"Did you find anything?" Riley asked as Abigail handed him the phone.

She shook her head. "Nothing suspicious in the call history."

Riley scrolled through the menus to take a look at the call log himself. He went back to the call that supposedly Riley placed to Ben the other night.

"That was a restricted call," Riley told Abigail. "If it was me, my number would have popped up. See?" He showed her the screen and she nodded. "Here, write this down."

Abigail got into her purse and pulled out a small notebook and pen, waiting for Riley to tell her what to write.

"Thursday night 3:48 a.m.," Riley said. "Restricted."

"So you really mean Friday morning?" Abigail clarified.

Riley looked at Abigail with annoyance. "I guess, if you're gonna get that technical." He pushed down a few clicks on the scroll button. "9:15 a.m. Friday, Ben placed a call to me."

"He did?"

"Write it."

Abigail wrote it down and waited for Riley as he looked suspiciously at the call log.

"11:17 a.m., Restricted call. 11:19 a.m., Restricted call."

"Two in a row?"

"Yeah," Riley said, thinking back to the drive he took with Ben that morning. "Ben was acting weird about that phone call, now that I think about it. We were driving, and his phone was ringing and he seemed to not want to answer it."

"Why not?" Abigail asked. "What if it was me?"

Riley smirked. "Maybe that's what he thought too."

"Riley!" Abigail exclaimed and playfully slapped him on the arm.

"Haha, sorry," he said, still chuckling to himself. "Eventually the phone stopped ringing, and Ben was really relieved. But then it rang again right away. And he did answer it this time."

"Who was it?"

Riley shook his head. "He claimed it was a wrong number…someone looking for George Washington."

Abigail arched an eyebrow and looked at him in disbelief. "Come on."

"I'm serious!" Riley told her. "That's what he said at least."

"Well obviously that isn't who it was. Whoever it was, he didn't want you to know about it," Abigail reasoned, pausing for a moment in thought. "And that worries me too, Riley. If he was aware of some sort of dangerous situation he was getting into, it would be very much like Ben to try to keep it from me—not that I'd be happy about it, but that's just Ben—but for him to also keep it from you…?"

Riley looked at her solemnly and nodded. "You're right. Ben usually tells me everything."

Abigail suddenly started feeling panicky and sick to her stomach. She began pacing in front of the large airport window they were standing near, muttering to herself with a look of pure dread on her face.

"Abigail," Riley said, trying to get her to refocus.

"Riley, what if something really horrible is happening to him? Why would he do something like this? Why wouldn't he at least tell you?" She started biting her fingernails, and her eyes were beginning to fill with tears. "He would have told you if it was something that he didn't think he could handle himself, and now he's in the middle of some crazy mess that he probably realizes now he couldn't handle himself, and Riley, how are we going to—"

"Abigail!" Riley stated firmly, grasping her by the shoulders. She looked into his eyes fearfully. "I know you're worried, but you need to pull it together. We'll find him."

"How?" She asked softly.

Riley sighed heavily, but the sad, desperate look in her eyes made him all the more determined. "I don't know, yet. Let's finish looking at this phone, ok?"

Abigail looked unsure. She was starting to feel even sicker and her head started to spin.

"Here, sit down for a minute," Riley instructed, guiding her over to a chair and pushed her shoulders down until she was seated. "You don't look so good. Are you hungry? You haven't eaten anything in awhile."

She shook her head adamantly. "No, I just want to find him!"

Riley nodded with understanding. "I know. Me too."

He finished scrolling through the call log, making note that the last restricted phone call came in to Ben's phone at 5:52 p.m. on Friday. Abigail told Riley that was right after he'd left for the airport.

"Now," Riley said, pressing a key to check Ben's voicemail, "Let's see if we have any messages from our restricted caller."

"He has 14 new messages," Riley repeated what the automated voice said as it connected Riley to Ben's voicemail. He made a disgusted face while listening to the first one that Abigail left him, full of suggestive innuendos that Riley was sure she meant for Ben's ears only.

"_What the heck Abigail_?"

Abigail looked up at his wide-eyed expression and knew almost immediately what he was listening to. "Skip that one!" She ordered him, her cheeks turning bright red in embarrassment.

"Is it safe to keep listening?" Riley asked after skipping the rest of the first one.

"Yes," Abigail replied. "And stop looking at me like that!"

Riley continued listening to the messages, most of which were from Abigail wondering where he was and why he wasn't calling her. There was one from him instructing Ben to call Abigail. Then there were a few from people at the conference Ben was supposed to be speaking at.

"Ok, so none of these were checked," Riley explained. "So his phone was definitely gone prior to this first message coming in."

"Riley, did he call a cab?" Abigail suddenly asked, watching as Riley quickly searched through the call history again. "He told me he wasn't renting a car because he'd be at the university all weekend and wouldn't need one. But he _would_ have needed a ride from the airport to the school."

Abigail bounced up from her seat and began pacing again.

Riley shook his head. "No calls were made from his phone between that final restricted call prior to his flight leaving Washington, and your first message left that night."

"So someone must have come to pick him up, right?"

Riley shrugged. "That would seem logical."

"Someone that _didn't_ take him to his conference."

"Someone that threw out his phone?" Riley wondered.

"Well Ben wouldn't have thrown out his phone," Abigail said pointedly. "And it doesn't even make sense that if he had dropped it accidentally, that whoever found it would have thrown it away."

"Right," Riley agreed. "Either they would have kept it, tried to contact Ben to return it, or hand it in to customer service here."

Both of them silently thought to themselves for several minutes. Abigail was doing her best to stay rational and try to keep emotion out of her thoughts, but it was almost impossible. This wasn't just any mystery or treasure hunt they were trying to figure out—this was _her Ben_, the man she couldn't imagine life without.

"Riley, we need more help."

Riley looked at Abigail with uncertainty. "I don't know Abigail. What if…"

Abigail threw her hands in the air dramatically. "We can't play 'what if,' Riley! Because unless you know what to do next, we're kind of stuck! There were no clues in his phone to help us out, so for all we know, he really did die in that cab explosion on Sunday."

"Ok, ok, calm down, Abby," Riley soothed, guiding her back to the chair to sit down. "Do you want to call the police and see if they'll give us any information about that explosion?"

"Maybe we should call Sadusky," Abigail suggested. "He would have the inside track to all of this. If it really was Ben in that cab, he could find out, don't you think?"

Riley nodded. "That might not be a bad idea."

Abigail rummaged around through her purse and pulled out her own cell phone, scrolling through her list of contacts to find Sadusky. Ben had made her store his direct number just in case she ever needed immediate help; that way, she could bypass the automated menus, receptionists, and questions determining whether she _really_ needed to talk to Sadusky or not.

Before she had finished dialing, Riley announced that he was hungry and would be right back. Abigail watched as he walked off in the opposite direction, wondering if he was really going to find something to eat or if he was going over to talk to Alicia again.

In fact, she never did get her answer, seeing that Riley was only a few steps away before Sadusky had answered the phone. As soon as he did, Abigail was only focused on that phone call and what he might know about the cab explosion.

"Ah Dr. Abigail Chase, how are you, dear?" Sadusky greeted, far too cheerfully for the situation at hand.

"Not so good, I'm afraid," Abigail replied, taking a deep breath to try to hold back threatening tears.

"Is it Ben?" Sadusky asked. "Is he treasure hunting again?"

"No, no," Abigail answered. "He's…well, he's…actually I'm calling to see if you might have some information about an accident that happened in Chicago."

"Chicago? Was Ben in an accident?" Sadusky suddenly seemed very concerned.

"I don't know…I mean, I think so. But I don't know for sure. The police called me—there was an explosion at the airport and Ben was in the cab—"

"Wait, wait, wait, Abigail," Sadusky interrupted. "The cab explosion that happened on Sunday?"

"Yes," Abigail replied, relieved that he knew what she was referring to.

"I didn't realize anyone was injured in that accident," he contemplated with just a hint of suspiciousness in his tone. "Who told you Ben was hurt?"

"The officer who called. She said they weren't absolutely sure it was Ben, but they had found his wallet among the debris that had been scattered as a result of the explosion."

"Hmm," Sadusky sighed, mulling over Abigail's words. "And you haven't heard from Ben since he left on Friday?"

"No," Abigail confirmed.

"Let me see what I can find out for you, Abigail," Sadusky told her. "I know a number of officers in Chicago." He paused, and Abigail could tell he was hesitating, trying to decide if he wanted to tell her what was really on his mind. She waited silently for him to continue. Finally, after a few more seconds, he exhaled a heavy, drawn-out breath he'd been holding. "I will tell you this…I'm a little wary of the fact that the officer who called you was so quick to tell you of his death, rather than an injured or missing status. It's not customary protocol to _assume_ _death_ with as little evidence as a wallet belonging to the person in question…it's certainly even more unusual to actually alert the family without something more substantial, for obvious reasons as you're finding out."

"So what are you saying?" Abigail pressed.

"Let me see what I can find out for you. Do you remember the name of the officer who called?"

"Yes," Abigail replied, thinking back to the conversation she had with the officer. "Kelly Sullivan. She had a long title that I don't remember, but that was her name."

There was a silent pause on the other end and Abigail wondered if she'd lost her connection.

"Kelly Sullivan," Sadusky repeated after a minute or so.

"Yes."

"Are you sure?"

Abigail wished she could see the expression on his face, because the tentativeness in his voice left her feeling very unsettled.

"I'm positive," Abigail assured. "She was all business."

"That's interesting…because I do know Officer Sullivan," Sadusky remarked.

Abigail perked up. "You do?"

"I do…" He told her. "Except…well, let me ask you this. When Officer Sullivan called you, the title that you can't remember-was it 'assistant deputy superintendent of investigative services'?"

"Yes!" Abigail exclaimed, recalling the title as soon as Sadusky said it. "That was it!"

Riley had returned right at that moment, holding up a bag from a coffee stand as he sat back down across from her. He placed a cup of coffee at her side and she whispered a thank-you to him.

"Abigail?" Sadusky asked after he'd momentarily put her on hold. "Keep your phone on, ok? I have a few calls to make and I'll get back to you. Is Riley with you too?"

"Yes, he is," Abigail confirmed, glancing at him as he removed the wrapping from some sort of breakfast sandwich.

"Tell him to keep his phone on too. If we can't get a hold of you, I'll try him next. Something isn't adding up here."

Abigail felt her face pale. "What do you mean?"

He sighed. "Officer Sullivan has been in the business a very long time…over the years we've consulted on a number of cases together," Sadusky explained. "I can assure you that Officer Sullivan is no woman."

"Well she did seem pretty harsh and insensitive…"

"No, Abigail," Sadusky clarified. "I mean biologically, Officer Kelly Sullivan is not a woman."

"What…?"

"Whoever called you isn't who she said she is," Sadusky told her straightforwardly. "I _know_ Officer Sullivan. He's about 6'6, 265 pounds, as Irish as it gets—you know the classic image of a leprechaun, with the red hair and beard? That's him. Only he's a lot bigger—and wears a police uniform, not a green suit with elf shoes."

"This is…I don't understand…" Abigail muttered, her mind reeling as she tried to process what Sadusky was telling her.

"I'm gonna see what I can find out. I'll call you back."

The line went dead and Abigail slowly flipped her phone closed. She looked up at Riley with a shocked expression. He swallowed the bite of sandwich he'd just taken and looked back at her with concern.

"What's wrong Abby?"

"I don't understand," She started. "I don't know who that could have been then, and why…"

"Slow down Abigail," Riley told her. "I don't know what you're talking about. What did Sadusky say?"

"Someone wants us to think Ben is dead…"

Riley gave her a funny look. "That's what he told you?"

"No, but…why else would someone say they were…"

"Abby, just breathe for a minute," Riley instructed, noticing the grip she had on the sides of the chair. He reached inside the bag he'd brought and pulled out another sandwich. "Eat this. I don't need you passing out on me."

"Riley, I can't eat now—"

"You have to, Abigail. Otherwise you're gonna get sick, and that'll prevent us from finding Ben sooner." He shoved the sandwich at Abigail and reluctantly she took it. "Do it for Ben, ok? He wouldn't want you to starve."

Abigail slowly unwrapped the sandwich, still thinking about the conversation she just had with Sadusky.

"Oh," she remembered. "You need to keep your phone on, just in case he tries to call."

"Ben?"

"No, Sadusky. He's trying to find out what's going on with the officer who called…well, who supposedly called…anyway, just make sure it's on."

"Well of course it's on," Riley said, digging around in his pocket and pulling out his phone. "It's always on, see?" He looked down at it and realized it actually wasn't on. He'd forgotten to turn it back on after the plane landed. "Oops."

Abigail had just started to eat her sandwich, which actually did make her feel a little better, physically at least, when a soft beep could be heard coming from Riley's phone. His text message alert. She looked up at him while he pressed a few keys on his phone. When he finally looked up and met her gaze, his face had turned white and his eyes were wide in disbelief and confusion.

"What is it?" Abigail asked, her stomach suddenly twisting into knots again.

"It's…" Riley started, glancing back down at the screen in front of him to make sure he was really seeing what he thought he was. "It's…"

"What, Riley?" Abigail urged.

Riley lifted his eyes back to hers, which were now also wide with fear as she waited for him to say something.

"It's from Ben…"


	22. Chapter 22

**A/N** Life is a crazy, unpredictable thing. 'Nuff said. I'm still plugging away on this story--thanks for sticking with me despite my lapse in updates :) This chapter does little to advance the story, but I wanted to post it anyway--the thinking being that it would get me back in National Treasure fanfic mode and I could get moving on the next chapter (much of which is already written as well)...but enough of my rambling. Thanks for reading and reviewing if you choose to do so :)

* * *

"It's from Ben," Riley repeated, still trying to convince himself of the fact. He glanced up at Abigail, then back at the phone, his eyes quickly skimming over the words faster than his brain could process them.

Abigail felt her heart beginning to race as she watched Riley expectantly, waiting for him to elaborate about the message.

"How do you know?" She asked, adding as a logical afterthought, "We have his phone."

"It's him," Riley stated definitively, a puzzled expression forming on his face as he tried to make sense of the string of numbers and letters in the message.

"What does it say?" Abigail asked eagerly, reaching forward to try to take the phone from Riley.

He quickly pulled it back toward him, out of her reach, and she scowled at him.

"Riley," she warned, still holding her hand out for him to turn it over.

"Just wait a sec, ok?" He rubbed his forehead in bewilderment as he stared at the numbers, feeling even more pressured to figure them out now that Abigail was glaring at him.

"Riley."

"Alright, ok," he finally submitted. "It says, 'Riley-it's Ben. Need your help.' Then there's a long string of numbers and letters. Then it says, 'Tell Abby I love her x x x—'"

"Ohh, it does?" Abigail sighed longingly, her eyes beginning to cloud with tears. She momentarily zoned out, her mind creating an illusion that at any moment, he would appear out of nowhere and wrap his arms around her from behind, hugging her tightly to him and promising to never let her go. The imaginary scene both comforted and tormented her, and she forced herself to come back to reality before it could go any further.

"I love you too, Ben," she whispered softly. "We're coming, sweetie…just hang on."

"What's with the x's?" Riley asked somewhat hesitantly, not sure if he really wanted the answer to that.

Abby looked up at him and smiled. "They're kisses, of course."

"Are you sure?" Riley wondered, raising an eyebrow suspiciously. "That's not what comes to mind when I see three x's. But hey, whatever—your love life is your love life but…eew—"

"Riley!" Abigail cried out, realizing his implication. "Ben isn't like that! And even if he was, why would he send a message of that nature to _your_ phone? They're kisses…you know, like x's and o's? Kisses and hugs?"

"Um ok, but where are the o's then?"

"This is ridiculous," Abigail said, trying again to catch Riley off guard and take the phone away from him. It didn't work. "Are we seriously having this discussion?"

Riley guarded the phone closely, pulling it back against his chest. Abigail sighed with frustration.

"Riley Poole, you let me see that message right this minute!" Abigail demanded, standing up and looming over him with her hands on her hips.

Riley grinned innocently at her. "I'm still reading it. And I still want to know where the o's are…"

"They're _understood_, Riley!" Abigail exclaimed loudly, earning her a few looks from some travelers who were waiting for their flight to begin boarding. "Ben's kisses _already_ include hugs, so he doesn't see the need to be redundant in his messages!"

Riley laughed out loud. "That's _so_ Ben…the ever efficient one!"

"I really don't think that's our biggest concern right now, Riley," Abigail said in a serious tone, growing more and more impatient with his stalling.

"I know, I know," Riley agreed, looking back down at the phone. "Ok, 'Tell Abby I love her…kisses and _implied hugs_…" he paused, glancing up at her with a goofy smile. Abigail just rolled her eyes. "Don't bring—"

Riley abruptly stopped when he realized Ben didn't want him to bring her along. _Uh…kinda too late._

"What?" Abigail asked. "Don't bring what?"

"Um…don't bring any unnecessary…uh…things or, um, people…"

Abigail looked at him skeptically as he fumbled over his words. "What?"

"Hey, I know!" Riley exclaimed, snapping his fingers as though he just came up with a brilliant new idea. "Maybe we should go get a room at a hotel where we can try to figure this code of his out…ya know, in case it takes longer than just today…"

"A hotel room? Riley, we don't have time for that."

"Yeah but, we could probably think better if it's quieter…yeah…quieter."

"Oh just give me that," Abigail huffed, finally grabbing the phone out of his hands successfully. She stared down at the message, first the mysterious string of numbers, then his quick love note, and then—

"Oh, I see…" She mused, reading for herself what Riley was trying to avoid. She looked up at Riley and tossed the phone back to him. "Well too bad. I'm coming."

"I don't think I can let you do that," Riley said hesitantly.

Abigail's eyes widened and she crossed her arms in her usual defensive stance. "Excuse me?"

Riley swallowed, glancing from her daunting expression to Ben's message and then back at her. "Ben said—"

"Of course that's what Ben said!" Abigail snapped back, not even allowing him to finish his statement. "When would Ben ever say that it would be ok to bring me along?"

"Well," Riley considered, "maybe if we were meeting him for a few games of miniature golf..."

"Riley."

"Just saying…"

Abigail shook her head disapprovingly. "Forget what Ben said. There's no time to entertain his grand heroic notions, especially when he's obviously not in a position to be a hero this time."

"Abigail, I don't know…"

Abigail's phone suddenly started ringing and they both looked down at Abigail's purse. She quickly grabbed it and flipped it open, her heart beginning to pound anxiously.

"Hello?" She answered, an obvious sense of urgency in her voice.

"Abigail, it's—"

"Sadusky!" Abigail cut him off. "Do you know anything? What did you find out? Have you figured out what happened to Ben? Was he in that cab? What happened? Who has him? Who called me?"

Sadusky sat semi-patiently on the other end, waiting for Abigail to finish firing off question after question to him. She was obviously very worried about Ben, which was understandable. He was missing, and with Ben that could mean just about anything.

"…Answer me!" She finally concluded and at last took a deep breath.

Sadusky resisted the urge to chuckle loud enough for her to hear. Not because the situation was at all funny—if it were different, he might have jokingly asked her at what point during her rapid-fire interrogation did she expect him to jump in and respond to her questions.

"Unfortunately at this point I can't answer most of those questions," Sadusky said ominously.

Abigail's heart sunk. "Do you know anything at all about what happened?"

"I know basically what I told you earlier. Officer Sullivan did not call you. I confirmed that with him, and he also assured me that that wasn't standard procedure even if Ben had been in that cab," Sadusky explained.

"If?" Abigail asked.

"There was no one in that cab, not even the driver," Sadusky reported.

"Well why would Ben—or anyone—be sitting in a cab without the driver?" Abigail wondered.

"Right. Even more curious, the driver was rushed off to get medical attention after being found passed out by his cab," Sadusky explained. "Routine tests that were conducted at the hospital revealed traces of chloroform in his system."

"Someone made him pass out," Abigail concluded, taking a quick nervous glance at Riley. "Did he see who did it beforehand?"

Sadusky sighed. "No. Whoever it was covered his bases pretty well—"

"Or her," Abigail interjected.

"Excuse me?"

"Well, do we know conclusively that it was a man?" She questioned. "Don't forget—it was a _woman_ who called me. It could have been the same person, right?"

"Right…" Sadusky agreed, somewhat apprehensively, as though he didn't completely buy that idea. "But the driver seems to remember a man asking him if the cab belonged to him right before being attacked from behind."

"So, there could be more than one person involved," Abigail reasoned, catching Riley's eye as he looked up upon hearing her statement. Riley held up his cell phone and waved it from side to side to remind her of Ben's message. He wondered why she hadn't mentioned it to Sadusky yet.

"We're going to put out a missing person's alert in the Chicago area, and see if that brings in any information about Ben's potential whereabouts," Sadusky explained in business-like fashion. "I'll keep you updated if we get any leads, and likewise, if you or Riley hear anything from Ben--"

"We'll let you know if we do," Abigail replied, nervously biting her lower lip. Riley looked at her in confusion as she finished her conversation with Sadusky and closed her phone.

"Why didn't you tell him about Ben's message?" Riley asked.

Abigail quickly gathered up her purse and put her phone in the side pocket. "Come on, we have to go," she told him.

Riley followed behind as she walked quickly through the airport toward the car-rental offices. "Abigail?"

"Ben doesn't want them to know," she told him, glancing over her shoulder to make sure he was keeping up with her.

"He doesn't?" Riley asked, trying to figure out how she came to that conclusion. "How do you know?"

Abigail abruptly stopped walking, and Riley nearly ran right into her. She turned and faced him. "Ben sent that message to you, Riley," she told him in a hushed tone. "Not to the police, not to the FBI, not to Sadusky, not to me."

"Yeah…and…?" Riley still wasn't quite sure what her point was.

Abigail sighed exasperatedly. "He sent it to you and said he needs help. He wants _your_ help, otherwise he could have just sent it to Sadusky or the police."

"Maybe he just wanted _us_ to contact Sadusky," Riley suggested. "Maybe he couldn't remember his phone number. Maybe he—"

"Maybe," Abigail cut in. "And maybe not. What if whoever has him threatened him if he got the police involved? Threatened to hurt his family or you or…"

"You?" Riley finished when her words trailed off.

Abigail paled, fearful again as she considered what Ben had to be going through. "I just think we need to try to find him on our own first. We know how to get a hold of Sadusky if and when we need him."

Riley sighed heavily. "Why is it that both you and Ben always want to take matters into your own hands? It would be so much easier to just let the police do their thing…they at least have guns. We don't have anything!"

"Yes we do," Abigail replied, pushing her way through the crowd of people in front of a Hertz rental car desk. "We know how Ben's mind works."

"Ha!" Riley burst out, louder than he intended. Abigail shot him an angry glare. "No one knows how Ben's mind works…it's like one of those things that you only understand after the fact, even though you pretend you knew all along."

Abigail smiled, shaking her head in amusement. "We need a car." She had almost reached the counter for Avis Car Rental, which happened to have no customers waiting in line—Abigail's deciding factor for choosing a rental car company—when Riley grabbed her by the shoulder and halted her forward progress.

"Wait, wait, wait," Riley said. Abigail turned to him with an irritated scowl. "You're not supposed to be coming along."

Abigail huffed loudly, placing her hands on her hips. "Riley Poole, I am coming. I don't care what Ben says. He needs us both."

"Ben will kill me if I let you walk into some sort of dangerous situation!"

"And I'll kill you if you continue to insist that I'm not going!" Abigail retorted. "Trust me, Riley, your chances of getting let off the hook are far greater with Ben than with me."

Riley crossed his arms over his chest and frowned, contemplating her words. There was no way she was going to let him go without her.

"Besides," Abigail added, mirroring his stance, "do you know what his message means?"

"Of course," Riley lied, noticing by Abigail's arched eyebrows that she didn't believe him. "Ok fine, I don't know _yet_. But I suppose you do?"

Abigail smiled triumphantly, and patted his shoulder. "Looks like you need me after all."

....

The morning hours slowly crept by, burdened by the constant threat of the unknown. Would Riley understand his message? Would he find Ben in time? Or would Ian and the gang ship everyone out before Riley could get to him? Should he have sent a message to Sadusky instead? Was there something else he should have said?

Ben quickly shook his head, attempting to dispel the nagging questions that had him second-guessing just about every decision he'd made. He tried not to beat himself up too much over the message; after all, he'd only had a few minutes and one shot at getting something sent to someone who could help him. He was exhausted, physically and mentally, and another sleepless night didn't serve to improve his state of being whatsoever. Staying a step ahead of Ian's group without them realizing it was going to get more complicated. Ben knew he needed to be sharp and focused, or they'd eat him alive.

Part of the reason he didn't get any rest was that he had worked through the remainder of the night to come up with a convincing, albeit false, solution to the Beale ciphers. Now that he knew the real truth behind the ciphers, there was no way he was about to lead those greedy scoundrels straight to it. He just wanted to be prepared in case Riley was unable to get to him in time.

Tearing a page from the journal that held the key to one of the most elusive and sought after national treasures proved to be a vexing task for Ben. He agonized for a good twenty minutes over the decision to intentionally mar this generations-old journal, his thumb and forefinger gripping the top right-hand corner of the page, just waiting for his heart and mind to give approval. But he knew he had no choice. He had hoped to be able to use one of the pages of Savage's translations instead, but the linguist had used every inch of white space on those papers including the margins, where he had scrolled his own notes.

He found a page near the end of the journal that had less text on it than some of the others and carefully tore it out. Once it was removed, Ben feverishly copied the cipher and solution of the real location for the treasure, folded it several times and tucked it away in his pocket.

Now all Ben could do was wait. For the last couple days his mind has been consumed almost entirely with solving Beale's codes and trying to figure out a way to get himself out of this situation. But he welcomed those things that kept his mind occupied rather than the alternative. When his mind found a moment to wander, it always drifted to thoughts of Abigail. God, how he missed her. He tortured himself by reliving memories of times together and pondering dreams for the future – a future that was now so very uncertain.

When he closed his eyes, he could see her face; those piercing blue eyes that always held a playful sparkle with just a hint of curiosity and her warm, inviting smile that could make even his worst day instantly better. He could almost breathe in her scent, soft and feminine yet so intoxicating, always stirring in him an insatiable desire for her. He imagined those times when she'd come home from work exhausted and stressed or upset, ranting like she'd lost her marbles, hastily brushing by him as she paced back and forth while he waited to get a word in to try to make her feel better. He probably would have been rewarded with a fierce slap if he had taken any of those moments to let her know how downright adorable she was when she was all fired up (at least when the cause of that conflagration wasn't him), but he couldn't help the grin that spread across his lips in those moments.

Ben wasn't able to grin very long without Abigail noticing, and her reaction was always completely predictable. Predictable wasn't a word that Abigail would like as a descriptor for her behavior, but often times it was just that. Not that he'd be letting her know that anytime soon, though. That would only lead to an even more predictable lecture on him always thinking he was right.

"_Ben!" She exclaimed, stopping her pacing abruptly and crossing her arms over her chest. "I had a horrible day and here you are - standing there with that cocky grin, laughing at me. Just __what__ is so funny about what I'm telling you?" _

_When Ben's only reaction was to laugh even harder, she let out an exasperated huff and mumbled something angrily under her breath before predictably stomping past him on her way out of the room._

_Ben grabbed her wrist as she attempted to rush off, and gently pulled her back, meeting some resistance from her as his arms embraced her. _

"_Come here," he coaxed, rubbing her back soothingly. _

"_Oh don't you dare start trying to comfort me now," Abigail objected, trying unsuccessfully to squirm out of his arms. "Ben! Let me go!"_

"_Uhn uh," Ben said, placing a lingering kiss on her forehead, then letting his lips travel over her skin until they reached her ear. "I'm __never__ letting you go."_

_Abigail sighed in defeat; her willpower was never strong enough to overcome the emotions he stirred in her when he did things like that. She relaxed in his arms and he held her even tighter. _

"_I missed you today," Ben whispered softly. "I'm sorry you had a rough day, but now that you're home with me, I think I can come up with a few ways to make you forget all about it..."_

_Abigail raised her head and looked up into his eyes, sparkling with mischief. She couldn't help giggling; his expression was just too cute. How that man was able to thoroughly infuriate her one minute, only to have her melting in his arms not five minutes later was completely bewildering to her. She had no intention of letting him know he had that kind of power over her, though she suspected he already knew it anyway. With another dreamy sigh, she wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned forward to place a soft kiss on his lips. _

_As she rested her forehead against his, their eyes met and no other words needed to be spoken in order to understand the dialogue between them. For Abigail, the day's disappointments were already forgotten. None of those things mattered. __This__ was what mattered. _

Ben's thoughts and memories were only a temporary escape, however, and each time his eyes would snap open and reality set back in, his heart was left physically aching from his mind's bitter-sweet diversion. He leaned back in his chair and raked his hands through his hair.

_You can have your treasure, Ian. Just give me back my life. _


End file.
